****** Between Power and Passion by Winterlace ******
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Between Power and Passion


**The usual disclaimers: If you aren't at least 18, you shouldn't be reading
this. If you don't like strange stories of sex and violence, then you shouldn't
read this either. I love getting feedback, good and critical. However, emails
like 'this story sucks' are less than helpful.

I would like to thank Robyn for her advice and feedback. She also graciously
consented to proofread my story. I only hope I managed to convey my deep
appreciation of her efforts properly.

Between Power and Passion - Chapter One: Bestial

Alaris lay on the cold, unyielding ground, her breath coming out in short
pants. Her mind was numb, numb to the pain of her abused genitals, numb to the
stinging welts and cuts laced across her body, and mercifully numb to the
obscene laughter of her horrid captors.

Ugrrel looked down upon his slave with pleasure. The blonde human lay spread-
eagle, unbound, her body shivering uncontrollably in the winter's air. Her
mouth was slack. Her breathing was rapid and shallow. As another of his minions
approached her, engorged member throbbing with lust, she did not flinch. Yes,
this one was breaking in nicely. Pity her body was degenerating more rapidly
than her spirit.

The smaller orc yanked Alaris up by her hair. His pig-like face contorted into
a humorless smile, exposing rows of pointed teeth. Like all the rest, he
smelled of rancid leather, sweat and urine. She was forced into a seated
position, her mouth level with the creatures slime-covered penis. Without
hesitation or mercy the orc slammed into her mouth, down her throat. Pain
flaired like tiny firecrackers as her raw esophagus protested the new assault.
The claws of his large six-fingered hands pierced the tender flesh of her neck,
causing tiny rivulets of blood to trickle forth. Her hands automatically rose
to cup her tormentors buttocks. Too many times her flesh had felt the whip.
There was no resistance left within her. The coarse brown hair of his torso
scratched against her face. For a single moment she could almost sense his
thoughts, feel his excitement. Then her tortured mind went blank. It was almost
like she were watching from a distance...

The orc spasmed once, then twice before spewing his foul seed into her mouth
and stomach. Alaris was dimly aware of the nausea within her digestive tract.
That sensation, too, seemed somehow far away. With a snarl her head was pushed
away and she fell limply back onto the ground. Even the stinging impact against
her many wounds did not cause her to react.

She was near death. Ugrrel noted this fact dispassionately as he motioned the
next warrior to take his turn. This one forced the female onto her stomach,
raised her backside and rammed his maleness deep into her anus. The girl did
not react. Her body was covered in dried blood, and seminal fluid. Dirt had
worked its way into her wounds, turning their edges an angry pink. Sweat coated
her forehead, glimmering at him in the brilliant firelight. He watched as her
head rested on the smashed grass, grinding into the dirt as the lust-mad
soldier slammed into her. It seemed the whore lacked sufficient strength to
support herself with her arms. Too bad. Ugrrel strode down from his wooden
throne and snatched up her head, ramming his cock into her mouth. He thought he
heard a tiny moan of pain. It shivered up his spine, exciting him into a
frenzy. His excitement made him pound into her rapidly, all thought of savoring
this delight one last time banished from his brain. The woman's blue eyes
rolled back in her head. Her breath was ragged, almost nonexistent. Perhaps she
would die with him inside her. That thought drove him over the edge of
pleasure. His body twitched and spasmed in a thundering, gut wrenching orgasm.
He held his member deep inside her throat. His minion also climaxed, throwing
his head back and squealing with pleasure. Ugrrel slowly withdrew, but kept the
tip of his half-erect organ in her mouth.

"Lick it," he commanded. When she did not immediately comply, he dragged his
sharp claws across her back. Savage rips appeared in her skin. A ghost of a
whimper escaped her throat, threatening to harden him all over again. Then her
tongue slowly moved over his organ. He held her there until every speck of his
semen was cleaned. The control, the mastery he held over this human was
exhilarating. When he finally dropped her head. it smacked dully on the ground
like a melon. She had lost consciousness.

Ugrrel snapped his fingers, a signal to the lesser orcs that they could have
their turns. Three of them leaped upon her, driving themselves into every
orifice. It was a delightful spectacle. The chieftain plucked an eyeball from
the silver tray next to him. He looked at it for a second - brown. That seemed
to be a fairly common color among humans. With a sigh of contentment, he popped
the delicacy into his mouth.

Ice water failed to revive her. Ugrrl finished the last of his treats and waved
impatiently at his lieutenants. At least two hours had passed. Most of the
lessers were sated on this slave anyway. Snreshk, one of his more creative
officers, urinated into the woman's mouth. Nothing. The pungent liquid drained
out of her slack lips. Ah well, there were others available, an entire cage
full of them, in fact.

What to do with this one... He considered having her eyes removed, but
discarded the idea. His gaze went to the thick forest which bordered their
encampment. Tiny dots of red glowed out of the darkness. How fitting...

"Give her to the wolves." His order obviously disappointed some of his
followers. Their snarls of protest died quickly when he turned to glare at
them. "Now!" Ugrrel's one regret was that he would not witness the savage
creatures rend her body limbmeal. That would round out the evening's
entertainment properly.

Alaris became gradually aware of motion. She was being carried. Flickers of
firelight passed her by one by one until she was surrounded in the blackness of
night. Her captors dropped her roughly, sending new spikes of pain through her
battered body. She did not care. Death would claim her soon...soon. That
thought, alone, brought her a measure of comfort.

"It seems a shame for the wolves to get a living treat." One orc grunted to the
other.

Her legs were yanked apart harshly. She could feel his stinking manhood seeking
entrance.

It never came.

A low growl issued from the blackness of night, making her would-be rapist rise
and pull forth his sword. Alaris heard movement around her. There was little
sound, only the movement of air, the thud of bodies, and the gurgling of blood.
Some of that warm fluid spattered on her stomach.

A cool, wet point touched her calf. Somehow her body found enough energy to
twitch.

No more, she silently pleaded. No more.

That cool object traced up her long leg to her crotch, over her abdoman, her
breasts, up to her face. Framed against the night stars was a massive wolf, fur
apparently as black as the darkness which surrounded it. Its nose lowered and
sniffed at her mouth, her throat.

Please, oh, goddesses of light, please make it quick.

It was the only prayer left to her. All the others had gone unanswered.

'She is dying.'

The words were not spoken. Alaris heard them whisper in her mind.

"Let me die," was her whispered response.

Twin red eyes captured hers like little lanterns. They bored into her.

Craal's head snapped around to stare at the battered human female. She had
heard him! He probed her weakened mind carefully. Behind her tortured
consciousness was a small light of power. It was untapped, functioning now only
because her mind was too far gone to interfere. His focused thoughts eased
around that center. This human's potential was vast. When her body began to
shiver violently, Craal made his decision.

'Gather her up.' The order surprised his pack brothers.

'She is fevered, sir.' Rrell offered humbly. 'This wretched human is done for.'

Craal silenced any further questions with a deep, rumbling growl. He did not
care to be questioned, not even by his brother.

At the sound of his guttural snarl, Alaris prepared for the worst. Instead of
attacking, however, the wolf slowly nudged her with his long muzzle. He pushed
against her side. Others of his kind joined him there. Alaris felt their heads
tuck beneath her and lift, rolling her to her stomach. She winced as dirt and
leaves ground into the bloody lash marks.

Not satisfied with her position, she felt the wolves touch her again, this time
lifting against her abdomen. A huge mouth gathered her hair into his mouth and
lifted. It was a gentle tug, but could not be denied. Slowly, painfully, Alaris
raised up on her hands and knees.

Gods. Perhaps they would rape her too. The thought, surprisingly, did not
disturb her much. It would not last much longer, whatever they did. Already she
could feel the great sleep overtaking her, numbing her mind even further,
calming her fears. Her trembling arms gave way, but she did not make it to the
forest floor. Instead her battered body came to rest atop something warm and
furry. Dimly, she was aware of herself being pushed further onto the huge
wolf's back. When her legs had straddled his torso the great beast rose and
padded into the night.

Craal's nose wrinkled in disgust. She smelled foul. Orc scent covered her from
head to toe, mixed with the smells of dirt, blood and sweat. He could feel the
heat of her body through his fur, despite the cold winter chill which blanketed
the forest. The metallic taste of orc-blood still lay pleasantly upon his
tongue. Leave it to those swine to toss aside a female whose value was
incalculable. He listened as nauseated rumblings issued from her stomach, and
her breaths came too fast, too shallow. Saving her life would require swift
intervention.

He turned to Rrell. 'Bring our Mother to the hot spring. Gryv,' his crimson
eyes sought out another brother. 'I want Arananthyl leaves.' From the churning
noises in her stomach, his burden needed to purge herself of the orc semen
she'd been forced to swallow.

Both of his brethren bounded away.

The woman was still unconscious when Craal reached his destination. Nestled in
a small clearing was a fissure in the earth. Steam rose up endlessly above the
heated pool of water. He waded in and eased her down into the gently bubbling
liquid. A strangled cry of pain broke her lips and she cringed when its warmth
touched her body and face. Craal grabbed a mouthful of her hair and lifted her
head to prevent her from drowning. Two of his remaining pack members helped him
arrange her body so that it could be more easily cleansed. The process of
licking her wounds clean was lengthy. Some of them had to be torn open so that
the flow of blood would remove those poisons locked inside. When she was
finally cleansed, Craal and his companions pulled her body up on to a soft bed
of moss and crowded around her, their bodies protecting her from the bitter
cold.

The human's breathing was still weak. His scarlet orbs dragged down her body,
noting its curves, its softness. Between shapely legs of tawny beige was a nest
to golden curls. Tiny beads of water still glistened in it, echoing the silvery
light of Trinocta, the triple moons which illuminated the night sky. Her
breasts were round and firm. One or two of her wounds would scar, but most
should heal without a trace. Those which remained would add... character to her
body. His shaft quivered at the thought of touching this human. It grew
steadily in size and hardness, peeking out of its sheath.

Craal turned away from his prize. In the gentle northern breeze he smelled his
mother, Tama, approaching, and Rrell. Excellent. His keen ears tilted slightly
toward the west where he detected the faint movements of Gryv. He settled down
to lie beside the woman's head. Once she awoke, the next phase of her healing
could begin.

It was mid-morning when Alaris swam back to consciousness. The bright light of
Diurn, the sun god, kissed her face with his blue rays. The world seemed
surreal to her. Her thoughts would not form, seemed mired in some kind of
thick, soupy mud. There was pain from her back, chest and throat. The throbbing
agony of her genitals and anus formed an excruciating counter point to her
heart's rapid beat.

A massive dog's head obscured her view of the sun. Alaris gasped in fear and
tried to scramble away. The huge black beast growled at her, and displayed a
set of razor sharp fangs. Her motioned ceased. Even that little exertion
exhausted her. She turned her head to the side and found another wolf, and
another. Seeing their gray faces brought back memories. How she was captured,
tortured... raped. Alaris squeezed her eyes shut tightly. In the span of
several moments she relived those dreadful days again. A strangled cry of
protest croaked from her throat. Something was put in her mouth. Her eyes
snapped open and stared into the crimson orbs of the black wolf. She tried to
spit out the foreign object, but suddenly realized it was a leaf. Its taste was
sour and somewhat salty, but foreign to her. Hunger had been her friend for so
long that her jaws greedily chewed upon this tiny bit of nourishment, grinding
it into mush and quickly swallowing. The effect was immediate. Her stomach
lurched in protest. Its spasms could not be denied. Alaris rolled to her side
and vomited, tasting once more the rancid semen of her orcish tormentors. Again
and again she wretched until her stomach was empty, heaving out nothing.

Craal watched the human as she finally finished purging herself. He padded
forward to her limp, gasping form and gazed once more into her unseeing blue
eyes. There was strength within her, and power. He could sense it as his mind
brushed over hers. The orcs did not know what a prize they had tossed away. A
low growl from his throat caused the his pack to move against her, pushing her
away from the stinking pool of vomit. She flinched again, but was too weak to
do more than twitch spasmodically. Once she was placed upon clean moss, he cast
a crimson glance toward Tama. The wolf-bitch had but recently weaned a litter
of puppies. Her teats were heavy with unused milk. At his command, she bowed
her head and crept toward the human woman.

Alaris was aware only of weight upon her. She tried to struggle against the
orc, but was too weak. Her back protested any movement, and its sudden pain
brought back to her the sound and feel of the whip against her skin. That
memory made her stop fighting. Something pressed against her mouth.

Please, she silently pleaded. Please let me die.

Her mouth opened to the object, allowing it entrance. Instead of the fetid
taste of orc, what entered her was warm, slightly fuzzy. Alaris' tongue probed
it, and she cursed the learned reaction, cursed those who taught it to her. Her
lips suckled it, pulling on it as she had been instructed. Warm liquid entered
her mouth. It was sweet, like honey, but less thick. Her glands watered
immediately and she swallowed. The taste was pleasant. She needed it, somehow,
that taste, that pleasure and Alaris found herself sucking more rapidly. Each
pull of lips and tongue sent more of the sweet liquid into her mouth. Slowly
the soft object was withdraw. She was still hungry, but already her stomach
threatened to rebel against what little food it had taken.

Her head swam. The warmth, the food, it was too much...Darkness flowered before
her eyes and dragged her down into it.

Throughout the day Craal watched silently as the human slept a fitful, restless
sleep filled with nightmares and demons. He moved to her head and opened his
mind to the visions, seeing the plundering of her village, the killing of her
mother, her husband, and her endless rape and degradation. Tears leaked out
from her closed eyes. Little whimpers punctuated the more violent images.

A rough nod to Tama sent the wolf bitch back to the human's head. Craal saw the
wooden way that the woman opened her mouth. Her lips encircled Tama's teat,
then pulled away. He carefully entered her mind. The hideous images in her
dream were making her move constantly, sapping strength. His calming thoughts
did nothing to ease her distress. Alaris... he found, at last her name ...
thrashed weakly, trying to avoid Tama. As the torture continued in her mind she
began to suck the offered nipple. Only when the sweetness of milk penetrated
her delirium did she settle.

'Her fever is worse.' Tama's amber-red eyes met his as the last rays of Diurn
disappeared beneath the treeline.

Alaris' face was flushed, her body bathed in perspiration. Though her blue eyes
snapped open on occasion, she saw nothing. Craal hunkered down next to his
mother. 'There is little else to be done.'

'True,' Tama returned. 'I am curious, my pup, as to why you wish to save this
creature.'

Any other of his pack would have received a savage bite for such presumption,
but his dam had certain privileges the others did not possess. Craal invited
her thoughts to merge with his and showed her the bright spot of power
slumbering within Alaris' fragmented psyche.

Tama was not weaned yesterday, however, and before breaking the connection
dipped into her pup's lust and felt the heat of its fire. He showed her a fang
then, but she merely sniffed the air disinterestedly.

'So you intend to mate with her.' The wolf-bitch rose, stretched and slid a
fresh nipple into the woman's mouth. She had to admit that the suction of this
human's lips, the hardness of her flat teeth was pleasing. Her knowing eyes
burrowed into those of her son/leader. 'It will not be easy, unless you will
choose to enslave her.'

Craal considered the possibility, and not for the first time. There was no love
lost between humans and his kind. Many a hunter had become the hunted, and
human blood had a taste all its own. He could break her weakened mind easily,
bend her to his will. Within a few short days, Alaris would live only to please
him.

'No.' The decision resolved itself. The easy path would not yield to him the
reward of her love. The notion of making a human love him, want his bestial
touch, was too much to resist. And truth be told, there was something...
familiar about her... from the moment their minds first touched, Craal knew
that she was meant for him and he for her. 'I wish a mate, not a slave.'

His mother evaluated him out of the corners of her eyes. 'Then let us hope that
she is as strong as you believe. For once she has begun to accept you, she will
have to fight for her place in the pack. There are many bitches who desire to
mate with the Alpha Prime.'

She was right. He rose with a growl that vibrated like rolling thunder. Rrell
jogged to him swiftly and awaited instruction.

'Find clothing and a weapon for her.' Craal's tone brooked no question or
refusal. His brother merely glanced at the human woman suckling at his mother's
breast then bounded away with a yip. Two others followed after him.

For three days, Alaris was suspended between life and death. Craal, himself,
washed her wounds. He tried to be gentle, but she groaned in agony when he
cleansed the deep claw marks on her back. Sometimes it was impossible to get
her to eat. She fought against Tama. Her struggles tore open her deepest
wounds, making them seep.

Alaris lived those days in a constant state of torment. When she was aware at
all her brain was filled with the memories of her rape. Sometimes she seemed to
see things from above. She watched in horror as her unconscious body was
plundered again and again. The chieftain took her many times. Her throat
distended each time his organ forced its way inside. When he took her vaginally
or anally, his member was always smeared with her blood. That swine-like face
covered hers. She felt his tusks press against her lips. His tongue brutalized
her mouth. His swollen shaft ripped her flesh as it hammered into her. Every
time he ejaculated, it was in her mouth. She was forced to eat his streaming
juices, mixed with her own blood, or worse, her own feces.

"No," she cried, struggling vainly. "Noooo."

Craal finally intervened. He forcefully broke the near non-existent defenses of
her mind. Despite her latent power, she was too weak to resist. Alaris shivered
then went limp as the nightmare finally ended. He watched tense muscles
gradually relax, heard her soft moan of relief. She needed to dream, however,
and so the wolf leader inserted a long fantasy.

Alaris was running beside the black wolf. Her blonde hair was billowing behind
her. They raced across a meadow of tall, green grass, beneath an amber sky. Her
playmate nipped at her heels and she laughed as he tackled her, sending her
rolling into the soft vegetation. They wrestled. Eventually the massive wolf
pinned her to the ground. He was heavy, but Alaris was not crushed by the
weight. His fur was silky against her naked body. The creature tickled her
knees with his tail. His whiskered muzzle did the same at her neck and soon she
was giggling uncontrollably.

The vision faded, replaced with one of her nestled against a female wolf. Her
lips wrapped around one of the bitch's nipples pulling gently. As Alaris fed,
the wolf licked her forehead gently, like a mother comforting a treasured pup.
It filled her with warmth. She sucked at the teat eagerly. It rewarded her with
nourishment. Slowly Alaris brought her hand up to the female's side and stroked
through the thick, gray coat. She twirled her fingers through the soft hair.
Part of her craved the warmth and affection offered by the wolf-bitch. This
time the image went on unchanging. Every squirt of wolf's milk made her feel
safe, secure. The word 'mother' recurred in her thoughts. A tiny voice rebelled
against it, crying out that she was human, not a beast. But the silken tongue
washed her face so tenderly, so lovingly.

'Mother,' it whispered.

The milk tasted wonderful. It was seductively addicting. As more and more of it
filled her mouth with sweetness, Alaris' rebellion faded. It had been so long
since she had eaten. So terribly long. The little voice of protest died as
Alaris began to drink in earnest, arm circling her mother's torso and pulling
her more tightly against her face.

Craal smiled as his chosen gripped Tama possessively. Her lips no longer
rebelled against the offered food, but sucked rapidly and with increasing
contentment. Tama continued to lick the woman's cheek. Each stroke of her soft
tongue transmitted reassurance to his chosen. Alaris relaxed more and more,
regressing deeper into a childlike state. Every few moments he whispered the
word, 'Mother,' again. Soon though, he did not have to whisper at all. The
woman was it repeating on her own.

The following evening Rrell returned with two sacks of human traveling gear.
With a sly grin he regaled his elder brother with stories of how he and his
comrades crept into the camp, frightened the horses, then robbed the humans
blind before anyone was the wiser.

Two more days passed before his chosen's fever broke. Craal returned from the
hunt to find her pale form curled up next to Tama. Other pack members where
huddled close, lending their warmth as well. The human's body was bathed in
sweat, but she was no longer thrashing in delirium. As he approached, her
beautiful eyes slowly opened.

Sunlight kissed her closed lids as Alaris slowly swam her way back to
consciousness. She was warm. Perhaps Jaleth had placed the bearskin blanket
over her while she slept.

That was not possible. Jaleth was dead.

Her eyes snapped open, horrible memories filling her mind. She tried to sit but
found herself weighted down. When she moved the bodies scattered leaving her at
the mercy of the winter cold. A shiver lanced through her cutting to the bone.
Wolves. Alaris tried to sit, but her muscles screamed, her scabbed skin ripped
in protest. She collapsed to the ground panting.

They surrounded her. As she threw panicked glances about her, Alaris realized
that these were no ordinary wolves. They were too large. Their eyes glowed a
lurid, menacing red. One of them, a massive, black creature stepped forward
until he was gazing into her soul, looking deep within her. That is what it
felt like to have his steady regard. A snarl brought another wolf to her, a
female. The great bitch was heavy with milk. Alaris gathered her arms, trying
to push away, but one breast was already inside her open mouth.

It was a familiar touch. Before she could think, her lips tightened and that
taste of honey filled her mouth to overflowing with its sweetness. She sucked
eagerly, and became slowly aware that her arms had risen to stroke the wolf's
sides. Its fur was so silken, so soft. A low moan of pleasure escaped her
mouth. Part of her protested that this was an animal, but the need for warmth
and food had enslaved her. She suckled long and deeply, savoring the wolf's
milk. The huge creature nuzzled her affectionately.

"Mother," she whispered and returned to her meal.

Something wet passed over one of her wounds. Alaris started, trying to pull
away. Her mother licked her cheek. The action lent reassurance. As a new breast
was inserted into her mouth, Alaris relaxed once more, giving into the pleasing
sensations.

Craal licked at each wound carefully, gently. Most had scabbed over and were
healing nicely. He paid particular attention to those on her exposed back. A
couple of the claw marks were still surrounded by angry pink flesh, a sign of
inflammation. Alaris quivered at his touch, but ceased trying to escape. He
glanced upward. Tama adjusted position again and offered a fresh nipple for the
human. It was eagerly accepted.

Slowly Craal made his way down her back to lick the wounds upon her thigh. He
pushed his nose against her hip and attempted to roll her onto her back. Tama
shifted her weight, pushing against her adopted pup to assist. The female
winced when her back contacted the prickly moss. Once she was feeding
contentedly again, Craal began stroking the welts on her abdomen. Her skin
twitched in response. Through their mental link, he sensed her consciousness
retreat. She was neither fully conscious, nor completely unaware. His tongue
stole upward, caressing a nipple. After only a few touches it hardened. Craal
dragged his cool nose over to her other breast. That tiny bud sprang to life as
well. From between her legs came the intoxicating scent of desire.

That smell pleased him. It indicated that Alaris was still capable of
responding to gentleness. He lingered at her breasts alternately licking them,
brushing across them with the soft fur of his ruff, and lightly dragging his
teeth over the sensitive flesh. She groaned quietly. Craal moved lower, down
her abdomen, to her navel. His chosen's legs shifted, her torso quivered. The
human's consciousness struggled vainly to resurface.

As the velvety tongue glided across her hip joints, Alaris tried to fight clear
of the fog. The little voice had returned, telling her that an animal was
caressing her, that an animal was making her feel, making her want. She pulled
away from her mother's teat. Her breathing was rapid, but deep. An ache
blossomed in her loins. Far from the agony of abuse, this pain was hot, growing
hotter and deliciously sensual. When the beasts nose drifted between her legs,
she felt them part for him.

Stop this. Her mind counseled.

Fur rubbed against her calves. The great wolf had settled between her spread
legs. Now his tongue teased the skin of her inner thighs.

Alaris' hips trembled. The licking continued moving languidly toward her heated
genitals.

She moaned and opened her thighs even wider.

That spark of consciousness was demanding attention. This is an animal, it
reasoned. These feelings you have are perverted and unnatural. Open your eyes
and move away!

Her eyes opened as the silken, wet tongue slipped between her legs and
tantalized her erect clitoris. It stroked over it again and again until her
eyes closed once more and she no longer cared what was stimulating her. She
felt the wolf's lips part, his hard white teeth graze across that bundle of
nerves. Her torso rose to meet him.

Craal settled between her legs and focused on her hardening nub. He remained
there, savoring her little moans of pleasure. She needed softness, gentleness.
It permeated her wounded psyche and overpowered her inhibitions, driving her to
seek out more pleasure. His tongue entered her vagina. There was still the
faint taste of orc. The human shuddered in fear. Her moans took on the sound of
protest and panic. He sensed her mind reliving the past once more. He would not
intercept it. The woman must push past the fear on her own. Alaris' dug into
the earth. She tried to pull away. He wrapped his paws around her moving hips
and anchored her there. Ignoring her renewed horror, Craal continued to lick
until he had washed away every vestige of those vile creatures. The smell of
fear faded in the wake of pleasure an passion. As his tongue quickened its
pace, Alaris' knees raised. Her legs spread wider allowing him greater access
to her. Craal rewarded her trust by nuzzling the tiny bud of nerves at her
center. The human moaned. He could hear her begin to suckle from Tama again. He
looked over her undulating body and saw his chosen clutching at his Mother
possessively. Her tongue darted out and around Tama's teat, then pulled it into
her mouth. No longer was she nursing as a child. This time she was sucking the
nipple of a lover.

Alaris was only aware of pleasure and warmth. The tongue inside her was long,
penetrating. She felt it wash away the foulness inside her. Her wounded sex was
cleansed, soothed. Somewhere deep within her she knew that it was the black
wolf who caressed her, but she was past caring. Her fingers buried into the fur
of the wolf above her. When a new teat was pressed into her mouth she sucked at
it readily, rejoicing in the warm sweetness it produced. Alaris pulled the she-
wolf closer, roving her fingers across its back, taking comfort in its
nearness. Her torso began to twitch as the tongue drove into her more deeply.
It felt so good, too good. Tension built within her. The warmth grew in her
center became a burning flame. Her world condensed to the point of throbbing
pleasure in her sex and the sweet taste of milk in her mouth.

She was moaning. Those muffled sounds seemed to come from someone else, but
they did not.

Craal continued to thrust into her warm depths, feeling the walls ripple around
his tongue. The woman was exploring Tama. Her tongue roving from nipple to
nipple. Every lap of his tongue made her grow more frenzied. The feel of her
ecstacy and the heady smell of her passion thrilled him as nothing else had
ever done before. He longed to take her, to bring her to orgasm with his erect,
pulsing penis, but not today. Today was for her, her healing, her pleasure.
Later it would be for him.

The first wave of orgasm washed over her sending her hips writhing upward
eagerly meeting his tongue. Her legs captured his neck, holding her lubricated
nest to his muzzle. Alaris thrust wildly against him, burying his tongue
deeply. Each movement of her body brought her straining clit in contact with
his cool nose. In desperate abandon she grabbed hold of the bitch above her and
kissed her, forcing open her mouth, capturing her long silken tongue, sucking
her inside. Her moan became a long strangled cry of bliss. Wave after wave
crashed upon her until she fell at last, spent to her very core.

What was happening to her?

Alaris tried to remember where she was, what creatures she was with. Her mind
and body were too relaxed. Her mother slowly stepped away.

Not her mother. Not. She schooled herself sternly.

Why was it so hard to think? Her eyes were so heavy she could not open them.
Sleep reached out its slender fingers pulling at her mind.

There was movement above her. Fur brushed up her body. Paws straddled her.
Forcing her eyes open, Alaris found the massive, black wolf settling onto her.
His soft fur surrounded her in comforting warmth. Looking into those crimson
eyes, she felt her self drifting... drifting in a vast, heated sea. His weight
pressed against her. His eyes never wavered. She could not look away. The
drifting became a sinking. Alaris was pulled under the depths of scarlet water.
She tried to resist, to struggle away from him, but he was too heavy... like
her eyelids... too heavy. His tongue kissed over her lips as darkness
surrounded her. The last conscious sensation she had was of her mouth opening
to him like a flower, welcoming him in.

When muzzles reached beneath her left arm and leg, she rolled onto her stomach.
For the first time she realized that she lay upon a bed of moss, still green
despite the temperature. It was soft, almost ticklish against her skin.

The licking began again. Each wound was bathed by a tongue soft as silk and
gentle as summer rain. She watched as the black wolf cleaned the welts and cuts
upon her arms. The glowing red eyes never left hers. It was like she was
swimming in a warm, red sea. Every lap of that tongue seemed to whisper, 'safe'
insider her mind.

"Safe," she whispered. "Safe."

Only when the wolf probed inside her anus did panic rise in her breast.

"Nooooo," she groaned, and tried to crawl away.

Her path was blocked by other wolves. Alaris could only lie there, remembering
the brutal rape over and over again. Her heart pounded in her chest,
threatening to burst through her rib cage.

There was no pain. The probing flesh inside her caused no pain. Instead she
felt her inner wounds washed, almost babied with tender strokes of silken
tongue.

"Safe." The word echoed in her mind.

"Safe," she repeated and felt herself relax once more. Within moments she was
wrapped once more in the velvety grasp of sleep.

The dream began. Craal felt his woman shiver beneath him. Her fingers dug into
the moss. Carefully he entered her mind, sliding past open gateway of her
unconscious.

Orcs were everywhere. They had already defeated the town's pitiable militia and
had begun to pillage. Alaris watched in horror as her husband...her mate... was
brutally tortured. Jaleth was a strong man, hands made rough from years of farm
work. He was older than her, but had treated her well. Craal watched
dispassionately as the orcs beat him into submission. Every time he tried to
rise, fists pummeled him to the ground. One of the creatures pulled Jaleth's
arms behind him and tied them there. Clawed fingers ripped away the human's
breeches. Jaleth cried out and kicked behind him. His foot impacted an orc knee
and the loud snap that followed. Such victory was short lived. Three orcs
immediately seized Jaleth. One repeatedly choked him into unconsciousness,
reviving him each time only to repeat the process. Another knelt between his
legs and began to stroke at the human's flaccid penis.

To Alaris' shock and horror, her husband's manhood grew hard.

"The little human likes it," one captor noted with glee. This observation
prompted the orc at Jaleth's throat to simply press his clawed digits against
the pulsing arteries. Jaleth's head lolled back, his eyes losing focus as the
blood flow to his brain was restricted. He did not lose consciousness all
together, but Alaris could see that he now responded to the hand on his cock
with greater abandon, driving into it wildly. Within minutes his torso twitched
in orgasm. With a humorless smile the orc above tightened his grip, cutting off
both air and blood. Jaleth went wild. His torso spasmed uncontrollably. His
body tensed and when the orc leaned down to kiss him, that fetid mouth was
eagerly received. Just before her husband lapsed into a stupor, the pressure on
his throat eased. He bent over, buttocks facing the orc behind him. The
creatures slime covered penis was fully erect, throbbing with blood. In a
single savage thrust, his member was fully inside Jaleth.

The scream of her husband seemed to echo forever. Alaris cried out and ran from
cover, attacking the orcs with her fists. They subdued her easily, their fists
leaving purple bruises.

Craal chose that moment to interrupt the dream. His image entered the scene
savagely attacking the orcs. He ripped out the throat of the first, ignoring
the sour taste of orc blood that threatened to make him gag. When the next orc
attacked, Craal ducked past the ax blow aimed for his head and sank his fangs
into the orcs hamstrings, ripping a chunk of meat away. Now it was the orc's
turn to scream.

Alaris could not understand what was happening. Part of her knew that this was
not right, that her dream was not entirely her own. She was powerless to say
how she knew or to stop what was occurring. Another voice told her not to
question, that this outcome was far, far better than what actually occurred.
All she knew was that she could not tear her eyes away from the huge black
beast that had saved her. There was something about him, something powerful.
Motion from her left made her finally look away. The orc who had been raping
her husband had withdrawn and pulled out an evilly stained sword - a poisoned
sword. Alaris cried out warning to her rescuer and thrust herself to her feet.
She leaped at the orc, pinioning his knees. The creature stumbled. He crumpled
to his knees then to her horror, swung the blade toward her. The blow never
fell. Her attacker slumped forward soundlessly. His hand rose up to the empty
hole where his esophagus and windpipe used to be.

Goddess below! She had not even seen the wolf move!

Now the beast approached her, head lowered, scarlet gaze never wavering from
her eyes. Alaris stared back. He paused just before her. To her astonishment
magic seemed to ripple across his form. His snout shortened, his paws
lengthened into feet and hands. Limbs became arms and legs. A massive chest
emerged. Instead of a simple canine, before her was now a man-beast, powerful,
muscular.

Wolfwere! The more awake portion of her mind screamed out danger, for
wolfwere's hunted man as prey. She wanted to back away, but those eyes held her
fast. A word kept repeating in her dazed mind..."Safe."

"Safe," she silently intoned.

A pair of firm, velvety lips touched hers. The fur upon them was marvelously
soft. Alaris felt her lips part and a silken tongue entered her mouth. The kiss
deepened, becoming more passionate, more possessive. Her hands rose to push him
away, but froze when they touched his furry chest. Her fingers betrayed her by
rubbing into that fur. Their tongues wrestled, twirled. She caught his and
sucked it drawing her lips tighter against his. The beastman's body pressed
forward, pushing her back, laying her down. His weight settled upon her.

Alaris moaned when his fingers began a light exploration of her breasts. The
sound was captured in his breath. His mouth hardened against hers demanding and
receiving greater response.

Craal felt her sleeping body wriggle beneath him. Her fingers fluttered, legs
twitched. He nuzzled her neck gently. Tiny noises sounded from deep within her
throat. Her crotch ground upward slightly, then again, as the dream sequence
played out in her mind. Her consciousness tried several times to reassert
itself, to wake her from the pleasure. Craal intercepted it each time, guiding
his chosen one deeper and deeper into sleep.

She was grinding into him. Her moist center twitched rhythmically upward as his
dream double's penis entered her. He was tempted once more to have her, to make
her his then and there. But she had to choose him, want him as the beast.
Instead of giving her the fullness she craved, Craal maneuvered his penis so
that it rested against her heated bundle of nerves. Alaris moaned for him then,
and the sound thrilled him. Her hot genitals rubbed faster against his erect
rod. Her head slowly lolled from side to side. That little piece of
consciousness faded away in the wake of her arousal.

In her dreams Alaris was filled with her beastman's maleness. It plunged into
her deeply, each stroke sending waves of sensation washing over her. Her legs
wrapped around his softly furred bottom, pulling him deeper. Her mouth never
left his. The kiss never ended, only grew more passionate, more possessive. It
was difficult to breathe, but she could not escape his tongue, his sharp
pointed teeth. Alaris' fingers scratched up and down the muscled back above
her. His hair tickled and stimulated her breasts into full erection, nipples
hard, bulging like the organ which thrust into her.

Craal brought his long tongue to her lips and flicked it across them. The
sleeping human opened her mouth him without hesitation. He dove his tongue into
her soft mouth, lapping at the insides of her cheeks, twirling seductively
about her tongue. Her torso began moving in a frenzied fashion, driving her
pulsing clitoris harder and harder against his swollen maleness. Her moans
became more desperate. Her body's tension doubled as she spasmed upward. He
moved his cock against her only twice before she was coming, hips rising
higher, grinding into him. Her head was flung back, arcing into the moss. Her
cries of passion were louder as Craal prolonged her climax, holding his penis
into her, pressing into her pleasure center. Higher and higher she came, back
stretching, hands clawing into the ground pulling out handfuls of cool earth.
He continued to rub into her until her moans became one long groan of release.

She slowly relaxed. He listened to her breath gradually slow from rapid panting
to deep, slow sleep. Dreamless sleep. Craal licked her face tenderly, then
buried his muzzle into her neck. His swollen penis demanded attention. With an
impatient growl, he rose, and commanded Tama to take his place as Alaris'
living blanket. To his pleasure, the human uttered a small whimper of protest
as he left her. He slid his tongue into her mouth and rewarded her for that,
exploring her mouth, letting her suck his soft tongue.

Tama settled upon her with a contented sigh. Already she was adopting this
woman as a pup. When Alaris moved beneath her, Tama guided the human's seeking
mouth to a breast, feeling her suck contentedly. This human pup would grow
strong soon.

Craal licked his penis repeatedly until it released his seed, sending him into
the deep throes of an orgasm more intense than any he'd experienced. By the
First Wolf, he wanted that human. And he would have her one day... soon.

Chapter Two: Rites of Passage

The amber sky stretched out endlessly. Alaris looked up at it for several
moments marveling at its beauty. For as far as the eye could see, there were no
clouds, only the pastel blue orb of Diurn. The sun god was an unforgiving
sentinel, never blinking, never looking away during his long trek from horizon
to horizon. Beneath his life-giving rays, a field of emerald grasses stretched
forth. It rolled over slight rises and dip, looking all the world like an ocean
of green.

It was too perfect to be real.

The realization that she was dreaming hit her gradually. With it came the
shocking awareness that she was no longer human. Warm breezes rustled the thick
fur on her back. Hand had been replaced with paws, also covered with fur.
Diurn's warm glow shimmered off the white hairs like tiny gems of light. She
slowly drew breath. Overwhelming sensations, so new, so powerful rocked her to
the core. There were rabbits hiding to the left, hidden deep beneath the
sheltering grass. Beyond that a doe had cast her dropping upon the ground. Her
own scent tickled her nostrils. It was a primal, musky scent.

Sounds assaulted her ears. There was a mole digging his earthen tunnel to her
right. It sounded like a hundred miners tunneling through rock. Birds soared
above, wings beating like ethereal drums, high-pitched cries piercing through
the gentle wind.

And running. She heard the rhythmic sound of paws striking the ground, fur
Whispering through grass, hot breath panting rapidly. He was close. Alaris
turned to face her mate as he raced toward her. The sight of rippling muscles
and glistening black coat thrilled her. His crimson eyes intersected hers. His
wide mouth drew back in a sharp-toothed grin of anticipation.

Gods but she was trembling. Her body quivered at the thought of her mate's
touch. As he drew near, Alaris coyly dropped her head and felt her tail sweep
to one side. Their muzzles met in a playful rub. Tongues licked out, danced
over one another. She sniffed down his body. He was aroused. The powerful odor
of his excretions washed through her nostrils drowning out all else. Then her
mate's cool nose touched her heated sex, his silky hot tongue flicked over it,
causing her to shudder with need and desire.

Craal felt his chosen's body shift beneath him. When he cast a single lick upon
the naked flesh of her neck, she moaned quietly. Moist warmth rose from her
crotch. The dream progressed and her breathing quickened. Her movements grew
stronger, her moans louder.

Soon she would be ready to receive him.

"Wake up, swine."

Ugrrel was pulled from drunken sleep by the chill voice. He sat upright, heart
pounding, beady eyes wide in terror. In Diurn's new light he could make out the
heavy brown fabric of his tent. Beside his rough bedroll lay several empty wine
bottles, testament to last night's merriment. Movement at his lap drew his
gaze. The limp form of his latest toy slid away from his flaccid penis. He
shoved her aside with a snarl.

Only faint shadows from his weapons and armor met his seeking gaze. A sigh of
relief escaped him. A nightmare. It had only been a nightmare.

That was when a dark fog disengaged itself from shadow to roil along the packed
earth floor. It grew taller, wider blotting, out the gray rays of morning. To
Ugrrel it seemed that an abyss had opened before him. Hidden within the ebony
veil were legions of the dead and the damned.

"Have you completed your assignment, my pet?" Her words were dry leaves that up
his spine.

Ugrrel dropped to his knees instantly. "Yes, Mistress," he whispered. "The
village was plundered; its inhabitants slaughtered. This slave " He gestured
behind him. "-- is the last of them. I will kill her immediately if you wish
it." All the time he was speaking, the orc chieftain kept his eyes low.

An alabaster hand stretched forth from the darkness. Its touch was firm and
terribly cold. She traced the contours of his face with great care then raised
his chin.

"Do you like your eyes, pet?" The question was casual.

Terror clasped its clammy fingers around Ugrrel's innards, twisting them
viciously. "Y, yes, Mistress."

Tendrils of darkness drifted about his body. They scarcely brushed along his
coarse hair. Uncontrollable shivers overcame him at their icy touch. Without
warning her hand snatched him by the throat. The strength of a hundred ogres
crushed his windpipe and dragged him into the chasm of night.

"No," he pleaded. "Mistress, please."

Her eye began to form. A single point of white, lacking pupil or iris. Looking
into it was akin to staring at an empty space, and feeling it stare back.

"You must not seek to deceive a deceiver," she hissed at him.

The eye glared into him and all sensation ceased. He could hear nothing but her
voice, feel nothing but her frigid touch.

"Did I not tell you to kill every man, woman and child?" Her poison lips
whisked over his ear.

Ugrrel's three hearts seized momentarily before continuing to beat. "I have
obeyed, Mistress. All were killed, save only this last chit." He referred her
once more to the battered toy lying in his tent.

A muffled chanting was his reply. The hidden voices rose and fell from within
the shelter of night. It was no language spoken by the living. Currents
swirled, passing over his chest, his back, his penis. Unwanted desire ignited
in his loins. Ugrrel struggled to escape, to no avail. His feet were frozen in
place.

A whimpered moan passed his clenched fangs. When the touch came, he flinched,
expecting pain. But her hidden fingers stroked his length lightly nay tenderly.
It crushed his resistance more surely than any torture. His breathing grew
rapid as the sensations tickled over his body.

The eye loomed large before him, nearly glowing. The chanting drew closer.

Ugrrel's hips twitched involuntarily, pushing his swollen shaft deeper into the
shifting darkness.

Her voice seemed to come from behind him; her icy breath cascaded down the fine
hairs of his neck. "And what of the girl you gave to the wolves?" A single claw
sliced into his chest, circling a nipple, sending blood dribbling down his
front.

The pain was delicious. It served to distract him from the fiery sting of
terror now gripping his bowels.

"She is dead, Mistress." Surely that was true. The broken human had been
scarcely breathing when she'd been discarded.

Talons of frost wrapped round his testicles. They squeezed cruelly. Ugrrel's
stomach lurched. His rapid breathing faltered, then grew rapid and shallow as
genuine agony washed over him.

She was smiling.

It felt as though an abyss had opened within a chasm. "You are certain, my pet?
You have seen the remains?"

He had not. Ugrrel strived vainly to think of an acceptable lie or excuse, but
he could not think. Already his torso was thrusting into the velvety night. A
thousand tiny mouths caressed his member, a thousand stroking hands. He ceased
trying to stifle the groans issuing from his throat. More fingers trained
through the course hair of his buttocks. They suddenly buried themselves deep
in his anus. All thought disintegrated in the wake of such forbidden pleasure.

"Well?" She sounded like the husks of dead insects were lodged in her throat.

Somehow he found his voice. It seemed drowned by the unending chant that
surrounded him. "No, Mistress," he murmured. A moan overtook him. "I have - not
seen -- the body."

One by one she plucked free the gray hairs covering his chest. The little
prickles of pain drove the orc wild. He screamed with need for release. It
continued to elude him.

Then he felt her rage.

Razor sharp claws raked down his back driving him past the edge of madness and
into a hideous kind of ecstasy. His cries of pain and pleasure were stifled as
her dark essence filled his lungs. Ugrrel's vision clouded over into blossoms
of red fire. The sensations doubled, tripled in intensity.

The smile widened, a rotting wound filled with maggots.

"You have been a very -- bad -- boy." The myriad of mouths on his quivering
penis all sucked in unison. Uncontrolled shudders racked his straining body.
His orgasm exploded from within only gaining intensity as his oxygen-starved
mind faded in and out of awareness. Wave after pulsing wave crashed through
him. Her mouth fastened over his drawing out his tongue. Part of him sensed the
draining, knew that has his seed spilled into her ebony folds, his life force
poured into her ravenous soul.

The chanting voices were clearer. Shadowed figures appeared in the artificial
night. Hundreds of them. Consciousness faded. The apparitions became more
clear, more defined. Old, young, male, female, human, elf, troll...too many to
identify. Their hands clung to him, dragging Ugrrel into their ranks.

Miraza drained the worthless wretch until his empty husk fluttered limply in
her grasp. She flung it aside. When it struck the ground the corpse shattered
into tiny particles of dust. Ugrrel's essence took its place with the countless
others, temporarily ending the empty hunger. Like all bad things, though, it
would return.

Darkly she glided about the tent. Smells of sweat, sex, and blood permeated the
atmosphere. Crumpled in a heap was a young girl, all of perhaps 12. Auburn hair
lay plastered to her head. The eyes were closed, her respiration shallow. Dried
blood and semen coated the child's thighs. Miraza rested a hand upon the pallid
forehead and stole what remained of her life. The sputtering flame lit her
arctic insides for a moment, lending unaccustomed warmth before the frigid cold
settled in once more.

*********

Craal's chosen wiggled beneath him as the dream gained momentum. There was no
resistance to the images filling her mind, only pleasure.

Then everything changed.

Alaris' cerulean eyes snapped open. Her mouth formed a silent, horrified
scream. Before Craal could react, she was squirming desperately, trying to
escape, to rise. He allowed her to do so.

Panic made her rise to a crouch, eyes darting about wildly. But she did not see
the pack of wolves surrounding her, nor the forest surrounding them. The vision
unfolding in her mind dominated all.

He circled her warily, opening himself to her.

A thick, jet-black fog slid past the edges of her consciousness. No light could
penetrate its depths. No sound escaped its confines. There was only darkness
and a numbing cold the surpassed all winters that ever were. Alaris watched in
growing horror as a young child walked toward that veil. Red hair glimmered in
the warm sunshine; she turned and seemed to see his chosen. Her eyes were a
clear, forest green. Green like the youngest leaf of the oldest oak. Green like
the very heart of life.

The living night swallowed her whole. It swallowed her and she was gone. Just
gone.

"Diurn be merciful," Alaris' words were murmured in a barely audible whisper.
"She killed her."

She?

Craal concentrated more keenly upon his chosen's perceptions. He, himself, had
sensed no gender in the blob of ebony. There had only been emptiness and power.

His chosen continued to crouch, eyes unfocused. Tama and the rest watched
warily. Craal could sense their confusion, but had no time to spare for
explanations.

The darkness seemed at first to dissipate...then paused. It formed into a
vaguely human shape, facing her. Alaris watched numbly as a single, lidless eye
swam into view. She stared into it compelled to find its bottom, and knowing
all to well that there was no bottom. No matter how deeply she traveled, no
matter how long she searched, there was not end to the void of that
one...compelling...eye.

Voices, pained, lonely voices began chanting in unison. There was something
familiar about the words, the language. Alaris thought she should have
understood what they were saying, but she could not. She rose upright and took
an involuntary step forward.

***********

What was this?

Miraza spun from her latest sacrifice, her mind seeking that which had touched
it. Fury warmed her frozen heart when she recognized the glowing power within
the girl.

Her premonitions had been all too correct.

A thrill chased itself through her lightless being. Her smile formed slowly. It
was true, then. The ancient power *had* been reborn.

'Come to me, child,' she summoned, and felt her quarry obey.

************

Enough.

Craal slammed his body into Alaris. The force was considerable, and she fell to
the hardened earth with bone jarring impact. Her blue eyes widened, then
focused on his. Fear, confusion and revulsion warred for control of her pretty
face. She scrambled to her feet. Perhaps she would have run. He thought that
was so, but the presence of his brethren prevented an escape.

The wolves were still here. Alaris shied away from the bared fangs and bristled
fur, but they were all around her. She was keenly aware of their breathing, the
harsh sound of panting, and the white clouds of moisture that formed at their
muzzles. Sharp needles of cold pierced her flesh. It was a welcome cold, a
natural cold, very different from the frigid wasteland that lay within the dark
woman.

What was happening to her? Fear encased her stomach in a burning embrace. She
glanced desperately around, seeking some means of exit. There was none.

A low growl from her flank caused Alaris to turn suddenly. Her mother stood
patiently, watching from eyes of reddish gold. Feelings of warmth and
protection rushed inward to replace the stark terror. The huge black wolf
joined her. He approached warily, tail up, but head lowered, watching, always
watching. His eyes had a bottom. His eyes glowed with a fiery heat as warm and
comforting as that horrid white orb had been frigid. In his jaws was a large
leather sack. This burden was lowered to the ground. Then both he and her
mother backed away.

Alaris closed her eyes tightly. That animal was not her mother. Why would the
notion not fade?

The wolves lay down when the black on yipped sharply. She flinched at the
sound.

'You are being silly, child.' Alaris scolded herself. 'If they wished you harm,
you would already be dead.'

That truth sank in deep. These animals had not hurt her. In fact, if her memory
was correct, they had saved her life. The sweet taste of milk, the gentle
caress of fur and tongue returned to her, soothing raw nerves.

'Just calm yourself, Alaris, wife of Jaleth. They can surely do no more harm
that your former captors.'

Pushing aside remembered pain; she cautiously reached for the sack. Inside were
soft woolen trousers and a tunic. The cloth was cunningly wrought, far beyond
what she, a farmer's wife, could afford. It seemed that some rich man was
without a change of clothes this day. They were too large by half, but she met
the eyes of her dark protector and tried to convey her gratitude. Perfumed
soap, and a fish bone comb tumbled out in turn. Buried below were a pair of
boots and a dagger. The knife's hilt was crafted of silver. A shiny blue gem
sparkled from the pommel. Despite the ornamental adornments, the blade, itself,
was made of good looking steel.

She looked up in surprise to find that her benefactor was lying down just
behind the bundle. His alert red eyes tracked her every move as she dressed.

*************

When contact was broken, Miraza shuddered. Pain. She had encountered pain as it
ended. How long had it been since she'd encountered pain. Decades? Centuries?
Tendrils of thought spun forth, seeking, finding....

Snreshk dropped his meal with a start. There was a whisper in his mind, a
cobweb of ether that beckoned him. He knew that voice. She'd spoken to him only
last night, eagerly listening to his news of Ugrrel's negligence. Now she bid
him come to her. His hearts thrummed with excitement at the prospect.

When he arose, Snreshk suddenly became aware that his fellows were staring at
him. Their pig-like snouts wiggled, testing the air. He buried his mailed fist
into the nearest one and was rewarded by the crunch of bone and flow of black
blood. The high-pitched squeal of pain was only a bonus.

"Find somewhere else for your eyes to look," he commanded, then licked the
blood off his gloved fingers. It tasted of salt and sulfur. His angry gaze was
met with downcast eyes.

Good. Any further disrespect from these inferiors and he would rip out their
guts to decorate his tent. Booted feet carried him swiftly toward the voice. He
sensed it without error, pulling at him, like a rope was drawn taut betwixt he
and his Mistress. Past smoking fires and sleeping soldiers, he strode, over the
bodies of last night's entertainment, some still steaming in the morning chill.
At length the orc captain realized that his path led toward the chieftain's
tent. His tent, if Zovriil smiled upon him. The god of success was said to
relish the taste of human flesh. During the recent attack, he'd dedicated each
kill the Zovriil. Already had he gained the notice of the Mistress. Now if only
he could gain position from her as well.

Snreshk reached the large tent of brown canvas. The two guards outside were
slumped over as if asleep. Their even, deep breathing was uninterrupted by his
noisy approach. He tapped on sharply on the shoulder. No response.

The Mistress *was* here.

The connection between them drew him in. Before his muddy brown eyes was a sea
of midnight mist. No light entered, despite the bright morning sunshine. None
left. The very air was saturated with the smell of death and decay. Snreshk
drew in a long whiff. There was no sweeter smell in this world. He stepped
across the threshold.

This orc was not afraid. Miraza noted this fact with mild curiosity. Instead
the heavily muscled warrior strode into her veil without hesitation. He was a
powerful being. Tall for an orc, at least half a head larger than Ugrrel had
been. Oiled chainmail jingled with every step. Even his gray hair, coarse and
bristling seemed to be charged with excitement and eagerness.

She moved around him swirling, letting him draw her into his lungs, feel her in
his loins. A grunt of controlled excitement rumbled from him. The dead ones in
her darkness began to chant when she willed it. Their souls vibrated with
power, fueling her arcane powers. Uggrel's ugliness loomed out of the night.
His voice rasped with the others. Near him was the child who'd been his toy.
Vanquished mages, conquered warriors, commoner and rich man alike sang in
unison to her desires, their souls bound within her.

Miraza slipped her shadowed fingers beneath his armor and down his belted
pants. The ambitious captain was already hard. His body ground into her touch.
When her eye opened to him, there was no resistance. He even reached out with
his hands seeking a body to draw near.

This new pet would be far more useful than the last.

Snreshk thrilled to the erotic sensations the Mistress aroused. His every fiber
was humming with her music. The voices within her voice fueled the flames of
his desire. Already his erection strained against the fabric that confined it.
The eye was as beautiful as he'd imagined, as he'd dreamed. He stared into its
abyss, and it stared right back at him, drawing him further and further inside.

Hands caressed him everywhere. Lips and tongues traced fire on his hide.
Snreshk began to thrust rhythmically. Another groan of pleasure followed the
first. Her numbing touch was rough, almost painful, but wonderfully so. It was
almost a delicious kind of torment. Within moments he trembled at the edge of
release.

And stayed there. Held in place by the chanting.

She savored the orc's trembling. His eyes watered freely as they stared
unblinking into her. Only when his innermost being was touched did he offer
resistance. It was too late then. Miraza was already inside. She laid seeds of
her consciousness within his, then sent him flying into the throes of orgasm.
His semen spewed out heavily, endlessly, staining the front of his pants,
dripping down his leg. He lost control of his limbs. Only her swirling support
kept him upright.

'What do I want, my newest chieftain?'

Skeletons walked through the dead grasses of her voice. Snreshk moaned in
response then forced himself to answer. "You want the girl killed," he husked.

"Yesssssss."

Another violent orgasm accompanied the hissed word. The warrior screamed into
her darkness. He was strong. Even now she sensed he could be made to come again
and again, and still be able to walk upright. One day, she would find out his
limitations. But not today.

Snreshk shuddered within her. He could feel his seed lying wet against his
hair. "It will be done, Mistress," he whispered solemnly. He would do anything
to please her. Anything.

Miraza nodded, then pushed him away, back into the world of sun and moon. As
she thought, the powerful creature was able to stand, to walk even. "Then go.
You are chieftain now." Her command was final, and absolute.

Snreshk marched proudly. His blood sang from the sex and the power he'd been
granted. He emerged into the morning air and slapped the slumbering guards
awake. They rose quickly, fear in their eyes. In response, he shoved his
copper-bladed dagger against one hairy throat. Its owner stared at him wide-
eyed.

A cruel smile played across Snreshk's face. "Assemble the army," he instructed.
"I am chieftain now, by order of the Mistress." With but a zephyr of pressure
his knife drew a thin line of blood. His captive grunted weakly. The orc leader
leaned closer and kissed his comrade, forcing his way into the soldier's mouth.
His free hand slipped around the lesser's waist, digging into his backside and
pressing him close. At the touch of their crotches, his hostage shivered in
terror and soiled himself.

Snreshk thrust him away with vicious laugh. Both warriors backed away, then ran
to do his bidding. He stared skyward and savored the feeling of power, of
dominance that had just been his.

'Yes,' he thought, 'it was a grand day indeed.'

*********

Craal moved closer to his chosen. She watched him warily, but there was no
terror in the depths of her eyes. He inched ever nearer until his muzzle was
almost touching her booted foot. Tension filled the air. For long seconds
nothing moved. It seemed as though even the wind ceased to blow. Then her
fingers lowered to hesitantly touch his head. Alaris knelt beside him. Nails
scratched down his neck, around his ears. Craal leaned into her touch. His
response caused her second hand to join the first. Deep into his coat they
sank, touching skin.

He was so soft, so warm. The heat of his body quickly dispelled the chill in
her fingers. Alaris relaxed gradually. There was something -- safe about this
creature. Her fear of the orcs and of the shadow-woman seemed to fade in his
presence. When her fierce protector sat up on his haunches, she buried her face
in the fur at his neck, breathing in his scent. It was a primal smell. Her arms
wrapped round his chest and she pulled herself tightly into his body. Fingers
splayed out to trace his sculpted muscles.

His chosen's reactions were more positive than he hoped. Though far from
sexual, her touch established something infinitely more precious. Trust. He
turned his muzzle until it grazed her neck, then licked her silken flesh. Tiny
shivers coursed through her. He felt their echoes in her arms and hands. He
nuzzled her gently, content to be held...for now.

'Congratulations, my pup.' Tama spoke gently in his mind. 'Savor your little
victory while you may. If your chosen one does not learn to fight, your mating
will be short lived.'

Craal cast his dam a glare, but said nothing. She was right, of course. As his
mother she had that privilege.

Another lick of his chosen's neck and her scent changed, gaining a hint of
musky arousal. Alaris stroked her face through his fur slowly. He brought his
tongue to her ear, tracing it, leaving a moist trail to cool in the air. This
action spawned a sharp intake of breath. But she did not pull away.

Their moment was shattered when Craal heard distant shouting. The rest of his
pack turned as one, sniffing the air.

Orcs. Hundreds of them. He growled spitefully when their foul odor corrupted
his nostrils. Pulling away from his chosen, Craal growled to his mother. She
moved closer to Alaris, adopting a protective stand. A silent command brought
Rrell and Gryv to his side. The three of them loped away toward the invading
sounds.

**********

"Sir!" Snreshk turned toward the shout. One of the lessers was waving him over.
The smaller orc wore the tattered leathers befitting his rank, but there was
greater animation in his mannerisms. Such energy always spoke of ambition.
"I've found something!" The youngish soldier's voice almost squealed with
excitement.

Keeping his strides deliberately slow, Snreshk resisted the urge to jog over.
Hurrying was what the lower orcs did. He was chieftain now. It was not fitting
for him to rush. He smelled the scene long before he saw it. The sickly sweet
odor of death and decay greeted him like an old friend. Lying haphazardly on
the ground were the remains of two warriors. The same two warriors who had
carried the girl out of the camp. Both had been torn to pieces and were half
eaten. The dusty gray of their bones jutted out from rotting, black flesh.

The new chieftain suppressed a shudder of appreciation when he noticed that not
all of their body parts were present.

His eyes roamed about and rested upon Y'luth, a scout. The keen-eyed sergeant
was kneeling off to one side, studying the ground.

"Well?" Snreshk demanded.

"Bloody tracks lead off in two directions." The grizzled soldier observed. "No
sign of human footprints, but with the ground frozen, there would be little
left to see."

Snreshk pondered this for a moment. "Can you trail the wolves?"

Y'luth slowly stood and turned to face his chieftain. Over his the socket where
his left eye used to sit was a bright red patch. "No sir. The trail is too old.
Even if I could follow it, they already have several days' head start."

Had that cur Ugrrel been alive, Snreshk would have delighted in flaying him
.... suspending him upside down so that the fool remained conscious throughout
the process. *That* would have made delicious sport.

He had reported the missing soldiers to that weakling of a leader when they
failed to report for sentry duty. The drunken leader refused to send out a
search party. He was too much involved in his petty debauchery.

Not that Snreshk minded debauchery... just not when it overrode good judgement.

"Sir, shall I have several squads begin sweeping the woods." His new captain,
Horl asked politely.

Instead of answering, the chieftain took several steps away. He looked into the
shadowed wood. Even with their branches bare, much lay hidden. Such old forests
held many secrets. And now that his Mistress' prize was lost therein, those
secrets could no longer be allowed to remain. Search parties would be time
consuming and probably fruitless. Though he could not say why, Snreshk was
certain that the wolves had somehow carried away the woman. He knew it in the
same way he knew how to breathe.

He knelt to the forest floor and gathered up a handful of the dead leaves. They
were arid and brittle, like old bones long parched in the sun. There had been
little snow and less rain this winter. The land was thirsty.

A funny kind of calm settled on him. He could almost hear the lilting chants of
his Mistress, feel her hands gesture...

He rose abruptly and faced his captain. One beady eye glimmered white and empty
as he crumbled the leaves into fine, dry powder. The humorless smile that
crossed his piggish features displayed fangs long accustomed to blood.

"Burn it," he ordered.

This story is part of White_Shadow's_Nasty_Stories.
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