The Werewolf Order (Erotica)

She draws in a sharp breath, trying to focus on something else, “The humans in your traveling party appeared to be well taken care of.”

His head tilts towards her as she speaks; he replies softly, “I am sure you think that we beat our slaves and ravage the women,” his voice bites with a hint of venom in it.

It stings her slightly, but the distraction from her aching cunt is welcomed, “That is what they say. I think there is so much hatred because they simply don’t know what happens to the people once they are taken.”

“You don’t believe it, then?”

“No?” she wonders, truly thinking on it, “No, I don’t. All of the Atonements that I can remember, your kind is civil and fair to us. Don’t get me wrong, you truly are fearsome creatures,” when he snorts, she elaborates, “I do not mean like a monster, but strong, large, powerful, intelligent. I have never known a mean spirited horse-they have the capacity for caring and kindness. And, on occasion, humans do too. It would only be sensical then, that centaurs are both.”

She rests one hand on his shoulder, so that she can lean forward and point in the direction of her home; the movement causes her to grind her clit against his withers, her breasts pressed up against his back. She bites her lip when she leans back, releasing her hold on him. He picks his way through the trees, stopping when the small cabin comes into view. Slowly, he lowers himself down, offering her a hand to assist her off of his back. When she takes it, his fingers wrap around hers, leading her out in front of him where he looks up at her.

“You are an odd creature, Coral,” he says, looking deep into her eyes, “you are not like your kin. You help us with kindness, you try to see the good in the centaurs despite the hate that flourishes still after the Battle.” Drawing in a deep breath through his nose, he raises a brow, “And you are aroused by me.”

Her eyes grow wide; she jerks her hand away from him, turning her back towards him to hide her flushing face, “That is not a proper thing to say to a woman,” she snaps.

His hands easily grip her waist and he turns her back around, holding her before him. In his kneeling position, his face is the same height as her rapidly rising and falling breasts.

“We centaurs are not as good with small talk. We say what is on our minds. I could feel the heat radiating off of your womanhood, and I can smell your musky scent. It is… intoxicating,” Quell’s piercing eyes never leave hers.

Coral’s body tingles, aching for him to do to her, what Tobias had done earlier. Yet, being more of a gentleman, Quell releases his hold of her and rises to his feet, now looking down upon her.

Her heart continues to pound, but she manages to force her voice out, “Thank you, Quell, for seeing me home. Is there anything I can offer to express my gratitude?”

Slowly, he leans down towards her, his handsome face serious. She can feel his breath tickle her skin when he speaks, “I require but a single kiss in payment, from a beautiful, kind maiden.”

His hand finds her cheek, gently cradling it; almost as if he is waiting for her to pull free from his grasp in disgust, he pauses and waits.

Coral slowly tips her chin upwards towards him, her lips gently pressing against his. Quell returns the kiss, wanting to melt into her lips, wanting more. But instead, he slowly pulls back, breaking free from her touch.

“Have a good night, dear Coral,” he says, his fingers gently stroking her face before falling away.

“Get back safely, Quell,” she whispers, watching him turn and trot off into the darkness.

She lingers there for a long while, first watching the fading, ghostly glow of his fur in the moon light and then staring off into the darkness, almost as if she hopes he will come back. When an owl hoots gruffly into the night, she feels a shiver across her skin, jarring her back into the realization that she should be inside, warm in her bed. She walks to the cabin, arms wrapped around herself. Just as she is about to open the door, she gets the feeling again at the base of her skull, a cool shiver down her spine, as if someone is behind her; but when she turns and stares out into the night, she sees nothing, though Quell, tucked safely in the darkness of the encroaching forest, can see the disappointment on her face before she disappears into the small cabin.

Coral slides the wooden bolt to lock the front door behind her. Piers has already gone to bed, his door to her left is shut and she can hear him snoring. Walking to her room at the back of the cabin, she pushes her door shut quietly. The room is small; once, before Coral, it was used strictly to dry and store herbs and plants. It still is, frankly, as the counter and shelves that occupy the entire length are full to the brim with different containers, hanging bundles of drying faded greens, pots of dirt ready to start new life. Just behind the door is a small metal stove, used mainly in the winter to keep the room a tepid temperature. At the far end, her bed pressed against the wall, with barely enough room on the other side for her to get out of it. She kicks her boots and socks off, unlacing her dull blue dress before pulling it over her head and resting it on the small chest that contains her few clothes. In just her shift, she walks to the far end of the room, gazing through the glass of the window out at the darkness of the forest and the brightness of the moon. Coral has spent many nights looking out at the same scene, thinking of places far from here, pretending to be somewhere else, with her family, or perhaps starting a family of her own. It isn’t that she doesn’t appreciate all that Piers has done for her, but rather a yearning to begin a life of her own. Sighing, she reminds herself that she will never have a life of her own, as she won’t have any choice but to marry Tobias and do as he tells her.

Laying down in her bed, she tries to convince herself that it could be worse-at least he is a handsome man, even if he is a bit dull witted and arrogant. She recalls the way that he touched her that morning; letting her eyes drift shut, she slowly pulls her shift up as he did. With a light touch, her hand grazes the skin of her thigh, slowly moving to the soft hair of her mound. She slips her fingers between the folds, discovering her clit for the first time, her womanhood still wet from the arousal Quell caused her. And though she tries to picture Tobias when she slides a finger inside of herself, piercing blue eyes cut into her mind and all she can see is the eerie glow of his seemingly white fur under the moonlight, feel the way his muscles rippled between her legs. She strokes the wetness up and down with her fingers, her pace quickening when she recalls the way he spoke so bluntly to her, how his touch felt on her cheek, how he tasted when his lips met hers. Her heart beats uncontrollably and she feels a tightness in her chest; she wonders if she is dying. She knows she should stop but the thoughts of the palomino centaur gallop through her mind, she can’t help but rub her clit faster, as it feels so good, so unlike anything she has ever felt before. Drawing in a sharp breath, she feels her muscles tense before her body explodes into a million fragments, pleasure radiating through every fiber of her being. Withdrawing her hand, her body curls into a ball on her small bed, shocked at what just happened. She feels like she is adrift in a boat on a large sea, the waters of her ecstasy quickly rocking her to sleep before she can think of anything other than Quell.

She wakes up rather abruptly, to Piers banging on her door.

“Coral,” he grumbles, “time to get up. We have animals to prepare for the Atonement.”

“I’m up,” she calls back to him, her voice hoarse, her head aching from the mead of the night before. Uncurling her body, she stretches it out, slowly dragging herself to her feet. Outside of her window, the sun is far from rising. Somehow, she knows that Piers has woken her earlier than usual, but none the less she prepares.

Pouring some water into a bowl, she strips off her shift and uses a wet cloth to wipe down her body. Her skin immediately prickles at the coldness, her nipples hardening so fiercely that she feels a tingle in her womanhood. Trying to ignore it, as it dredges up feelings from the night before, she pulls a fresh shift and dress out from her trunk. It is her best dress, a light green cotton one, sleeves just past her elbows, a scoop neck that shows a respectable amount of cleavage. However, despite being the fanciest one she owns, it pales in comparison to what she knows she will see others dressed in today. Coral, remembering her tryst through the woods last night, reluctantly dunks her head into the bowl of water, ringing out the excess. Hastily, she manages to get a brush through it, calming down the wild curls into smoothly formed spirals before she joins Piers for breakfast.

He sits at the table, the air still lingering with the smell of fried sausage and eggs. Coral hungrily eats hers up.

“Four cows and a bull, two ewes and a ram, two goats and a dozen hens. Robbery, if you ask me,” Piers is already in a sour mood, his stock of animals cut almost in half.

“What would you like me to take down to the meadow?” Swallowing some water, she looks up at him.

“You get the cattle, I’ll do the rest. The Governor wants you to help serve midday meal to those beasts, and then this year you will have to be registered for plucking.”

Coral nods, nervous about it. She knows that registering involves everyone of age going into a private tent, but beyond that she has no clue as to what it entails.

After breakfast, she immediately helps Piers catch and cage the dozen chickens; it is rather easy, as the sun has not yet risen and the birds are still happily roosting in their coop, until they are snatched from their perches. She then grabs two lead ropes and fixes them to two cows. They follow after her easily, as she makes sure to grab a bucket of grain for their breakfast. With the leads in one hand and the bucket in the other, she makes her way slowly through the sleeping town to the meadow on the far side. Outside of the encampment, posts have already been set to tie animals off to, though no one has risen this early. As she walks past the centaur sentries, she realizes that a few of them have drifted to sleep while standing. They stamp their feet in surprise upon hearing someone approach, but don’t act when they realize it is only a young maiden with cattle. Tying the cattle to the post, taking care to leave them a long enough lead to lie down if they wish, she pours the bucket out onto the ground for them to eat at their leisure. Then, she swiftly walks home. By the time she arrives, gathers two more cows and a second bucket of feed, the night sky has started to soften, the change barely noticeable.