Lady Wensley's Lover 2

Katherine had always hated balls. She hated the frippery and waste, the shallow conversation that flitted desperately away from any topic of real substance, the passionless, clockwork formality of the dances. Even as a child they had felt like a waste of time, an imposition which tore her away from her happy days of study and nights spent play-fighting with boys. As a young adult it had been worse - she had watched, frustrated and uncomfortable, from the corner as her family pissed away their last few coins desperately trying to convince their peers that House Wensley was still a force to be reckoned with. Her military career, as disastrous as it had been in the end, had provided a reprieve; her voyage to Fornhiem seemed to have laid the matter to rest for good.

And thus the knowledge that Fort Shieldwall had been built with a ballroom had come as a sudden and extremely unpleasant surprise. That her role as the fortress' Castellan required her to attend them was only even more so.

Thus Katherine found herself, a towering, rough-hewn statue of a woman, taller than most of her guests and strong enough to break the worst of them over her knee, watching in distaste as the worst of the old kingdom crept insidiously into the new land she had built. Clad in a long gown of royal purple that utterly failed to disguise her brawny physique and wearing a simple iron diadem on her brow, she felt felt as awkward and out of place as she had at the parties of her youth.

"Try to relax, dear. You're grimacing again."

Katherine grunted and tried to make her smile into something more natural. Her husband Marius shot her a patient look and squeezed her hand reassuringly. Around them, the supposed great and good of Fort Shieldwall and its surrounding territories picked their way through the final stages of The Western Marchers, the men spinning their chosen partners around like tops before the music ceased, signalling a mass retreat back to the opposite wall.

Only a slim majority of the guests were human. There were almost as many dainty Miyur in attendance, along with the occasional lumpen form of a dwarf grimly representing the colonial enterprise's military wing. Here and there the larger, stranger shapes of Fornhiem's native races could be seen moving through the crowds; delicate, faun-like Geithrnjota, the aquatic Djusynir serpents, hulking lupine Raudkhlo. The latter particularly drew Katherine's attention, and she felt her expression soften as she caught sight of Torja standing across the hall, surrounded by a crowd of twittering Fornhiem nobility.

"Poor bugger," Marius said, following Katherine's eye. "I heard about what happened with those Hunfar savages. They'll be pestering him all night now, hoping for some little war story they can regurgitate as if they were there in person."

Marius was, in many ways, the polar opposite of his wife. Below average in height, fussily dressed and sporting a pronounced widow's peak, he stood only as tall as her shoulder and bore the kind of soft, heavy body unique to those blessed by a life of luxury. Katherine had seen pictures of the man in his youth - he had been quite the rake then, with quick, clever eyes and hawkish features. Six months in Fornheim had already stripped some of the weight from his frame, and she was confident in another four he would be fit enough to replace the decorative sword hanging from his belt with a real one.

He had been a merchant in his past life, earning his fortune and a cast-iron reputation for fairness and decency along the desert trade routes of the old kingdom. That reputation had seen him brought low by a conspiracy of his rivals, and he had been forced to flee across the sea to seek refuge. But it had also brought him to Katherine's attention. As the last of a ruined House, she had power and influence but precious few resources to support them with; Marius had wealth in abundance but, without the backing of a larger political force, no way to make an impact upon the new world's burgeoning economy.

They both knew the relationship was one of necessity and respect rather than love, but it worked. Katherine would have been happy enough to find a husband who wasn't a complete waste of space, but Marius was both competent and principled, and had happily stepped in to handle the administrative functions her title necessitated. That he had been willing to take her surname had only raised her estimation of the man further, something Katherine had made very clear to him on their wedding night.

"It's like watching a warhorse trying to rid itself of flies," Katherine sighed. She couldn't make out what the Raudkhlo was saying, but his ears were pinned back in frustration, and she could see his clawed hands curling into fists as the mob's questions grew ever-more invasive. "Shall we go and rescue him?"

"I suppose it would be the decent thing to do. Perhaps I can distract them with news of how business is going with the Djusynir? That fellow there, Doublaunt, has been trying to establish a rapport with them for some time." Marius leaned closer, rising up on his tip-toes to whisper in Katherine's ear. "Privately I think he just has a thing for fish, if you get my meaning."

Katherine let out a short snort of laughter. "Well, good luck to him. The last man who made a pass at one of their women got eaten. But yes, lets. If we're lucky we can persuade him to stay out the night. Gods know it'd be nice to have another man around here who can make decent conversation."

"Were it not for Gideon's departure, I might take that personally," Marius added with a raised eyebrow as they set off across the hall. Though it was far from the grandest ballroom either had stepped foot in - Fort Shieldwall was, after all, a military installation first and foremost - the opulence on display still turned Katherine's stomach. Hard granite walls were softened by sweeping columns of polished marble, chased with gold and engraved with emblems of those noble houses responsible for funding the first expedition ships. Cold light shone through the grand windows which dominated the southern wall, through which the haunting beauty of Fornhiem's barren landscape rolled off into eternity.

Try as she might, Katherine found her eye being drawn back to those windows again and again. Some of the best years of her life had been spent marching across that broken landscape, nourished by honest strife and worthy companions, and with every face which leered out of the crowd demanding a moment of her time she felt her mood grow steadily darker. Even Marius' reassuring hand on her arm felt like an imposition rather than a comfort; another chain binding her to the soft, hollow life she now found herself floundering in.

"Vinir!"

Katherine blinked and looked up, her black mood evaporating like mist being burned away by the sun. Torja brushed aside the squabbling nobles and rushed forward to throw his hairy arms around her shoulders, crushing her against his chest in greeting. She laughed joyously, ignoring the scandalised cries of the men the Raudkhlo had scattered in his wake, and returned the brutal hug until Torja pulled away and brushed his forehead tenderly against hers.

"It is good to see you, vinir. Torja knew you would be here, but for a moment he thought you would be too busy to see him. He has been answering the questions of these, these..."

The Raudkhlo turned, ears twitching, lips momentarily drawing back from his fangs as Marius fussed around the fallen nobles. He was as always a striking figure, handsome as only a wolf could be, his eyes bright and piercing, the crest of thick hair which framed his long face braided with colourful beads and precious stones. Of all the guests present, Torja was one of the few tall enough to look Shieldwall's towering Castellan in the eye, and the only one with a body as muscled and scarred as her own.

"These...fine people," Torja finished lamely. "Who ask so much, yet listen only rarely to his answers."

Katherine glanced away, hiding a smirk behind her hand. "That's one word for them," she muttered under her breath. Torja laughed his strange, huffing laugh and shook his head.



"But we have been listening!" one protested, brushing aside Marius' pleas for calm. "You're just not telling us what we want to know!"

"Yes! We want to know what it's like to fight heathens!" another cut in. "To win honour and glory on the battlefield, that sort of thing! We don't want these, these...these stories of...blood and horror!"

He pointed at Katherine. "You used to be a soldier, Castellan. Surely you understand?"

Katherine understood all too well. As did Marius, who, more to the point, knew how badly his wife reacted to such sentiments. Taking a step back from the men, he caught his wife's eye and made a desperate, placating gesture, even as Torja bared his fangs in amusement and leaned forwards to watch the fireworks.

As much as they irritated her, most of Fornhiem's upper classes were fundamentally harmless. They locked themselves away in the Fortress' more comfortable towers, doing whatever it was rich, stupid people did to amuse themselves all day and only venturing out when a social function was due to be held. Occasionally one would get it into his head to venture out into the wilds and have to be rescued, and there was the odd scandal whenever some wealthy heiress took a shine to one of the native boys, but for the most part they were just there. Like an unsightly stain on the wall one tried to avoid looking at.

But the second and third waves of immigrants had brought something worse. They had been led by rich, spoiled children, fattened on stories of how their ancestors had brought civilisation to the old kingdom and sent out to do the same to the new. No matter those ancient wars had been waged as campaigns of rape and genocide, and that the elves, dwarves and giants who suffered at their ancestor's hands now only existed as watered-down, demi-human bloodlines. No matter the worst conflicts in the new world had already been resolved with words rather than swords, and Fornhiem's natives now lived, worked and loved alongside their human neighbours in relative peace. They wanted their war, and they wouldn't shut up about it.

"I understand - Laskey, was it?" Katherine's eyes narrowed as she fought to recall the man's name. "I understand that one has to wade through a great deal of blood and witness a great deal of horror in order to find the honour and glory you seem so fond of." Her voice was low and hard, and her grey eyes shone like flint as she spoke. "Perhaps if you had been with us from the start, you might have found a little of both."

She considered the man for a moment. Laskey was already cringing under her stern gaze, desperate for a way out of the conversation but duty-bound to defend the insult towards his courage. The moment he opened his mouth, though, Katherine denied him even that, turning away with a dismissive snort and casting a meaningful look at her husband.

"Marius, dear, please take these men and find them something to drink. I will smooth things over with our guest; it would be unfortunate if the Raudkhlo diplomat took offence over this blunder."

Without missing a beat she linked arms with Torja and strode away. The Raudkhlo grunted scornfully and flicked his tail as they walked, the beads woven into his long fur clicking with every step. As soon as they were out of earshot Torja pulled himself closer, letting Katherine feel his reassuring bulk walking step by step beside her.

"Do not worry, vinir, Torja took no offence. These whelps only dishonour themselves with their bleating."

"I know, my friend, but it gave me a good excuse to get away from them. Bah." She sighed irritably. "Maybe the little worms would abandon this foolishness if I shoved a few of them out into a proper battle."

Her companion laughed and grinned, evidently relishing the thought. "At least there would be fewer of them to return, eh? But, no, Torja has seen their ilk before. Weak and scheming, like the Djusynir. Eager to take charge, but not so eager to take the blame. They learn nothing."

The Raudklo flicked his ears. "But enough of that. Vinir Katherine is well, yes? Still strong enough to carry weight of her crown?"

Katherine ran a finger around the edge of the iron diadem, feeling the embossed crest that sat at her forehead. "Strong enough. Things are...quiet, I suppose. There's always one thing or another that needs to be dealt with, but it's never anything crucial. Never anything that feels like it would spiral out of control if I wasn't here." She waved a hand dismissively. "Marius handles the administrative side of things, so I have more time to myself. Would that I had more things to fill it with, mind."

Torja's reply came as a deep, throaty whisper, rasped softly into her ear. "Torja thinks felgi Katherine could find many things to fill her time with, if she tried." One of his hands slipped lower, a long claw tracing the curve of her spine, and Katherine felt her breath catch at the sudden contact. "Torja might even have some suggestions of his own. He has helped her fill things often enough, no?"

"You're insatiable," Katherine murmured. "You know I have a reputation to consider, yes? There are...expectations of a woman in my position. Decorum. One doesn't just talk about..." she cleared her throat and glanced hurriedly around. Where 'vinir' was a term of respect and affection, 'felgi' had an altogether more intimate meaning, and the Raudkhlo's flippancy with using it in public always put her on edge. "About such things in polite society."

But then she caught Torja's eye, and the side of her lip quirked up into a lopsided smile. "As much as I wish we could, at least."

"So. Go somewhere less polite." Katherine felt Torja's voice as much as she heard it, a rumble which seemed to fill her from head to toe. She bit her lip and glanced around, suddenly, terribly aware of just how many people surrounded them. How many were watching out the corner of their eye, eavesdropping on their whispered conversation for any hint of impropriety? Nothing she and Torja did was wrong - Katherine knew for a fact that affairs with the natives were endemic within the military ranks - but a Castellan and a soldier were held to different standards.

More's the bloody pity, she thought. Hiding her relationship with the Raudkhlo was one of the hardest things Katherine had ever had to do. It wasn't just the sex - there was a vitality to him, an irrepressible, savage passion which made her feel like a young woman again. He brought out her humour and kept the worst of her bleak moods at bay, and there were times where it was hard not to simply throw her duty to the wind and flee with him into the wilds.

This was one of them. Katherine realised she was shaking, the soft tickle of Torja's fur against her bare shoulder enough to drive her to madness. Her heart thumped in her chest. She could feel something - a hot tendril of desire, worming its way steadily into her core, eroding her defences with every moment. That was another thing the Raudkhlo had done - he had inflamed passions of her own, ones that had slumbered dormant for most of her life and now seemed determined to make up for lost time. Even in the most inappropriate of situations.

No, it wasn't just the sex.

But the sex was very, very good.

Katherine turned to hide her face from the crowd and chewed her lip, then reached a decision.

"There's a storage room a floor down. Take the north door, turn left, go down the stairs and follow the corridor. It's next to the statue of Lord Kensway. Go there and wait." She emphasised the word, meeting the Raudkhlo's gaze and holding it until he nodded. Then she glanced away, hiding the hot flush that had begun to creep across her cheeks. "It'll look suspicious if we leave together. I need to do another round, make sure I'm seen by the right people. I'll join you as soon as I can get away."

Torja's eyes lit up like lanterns. He stepped away and bowed his head in farewell, before stalking eagerly back into the crowd, his tail wagging eagerly as he went.

Katherine let out a breath she didn't know she was holding and cursed herself silently. The idea had come to her out of the blue, as sudden as it was stupid - there wasn't a lock on the door, it was visited regularly by servants, the walls weren't nearly thin enough to keep out the sound. It would have been the work of moments to catch the Raudkhlo and tell him she'd changed her mind, but Katherine remained rooted to the spot, watching her felgi's furry grey head bobbing through the mess of bodies until he reached the north entrance and vanished from sight.

The next half hour passed in a tortured blur. Another round of dances began, drowning the endless, twittering conversation beneath the warbling strains of The Highland's Pride. Marius rejoined her for the second chorus and the two lurched through an awkward death-march before exchanging wearied looks and separating again. Katherine drifted from conversation to conversation, only half-listening to what was being said and reciting the same old empty platitudes she had learned in her youth, all the while trying to decide if the wrenching sensation in her stomach was anxiety, excitement, or something of both.

With each pass of the room she moved a little closer to the northernmost door. Finally she saw her chance. A chorus of scandalised - and, to a lesser extent, appreciative - cries went up as a Djusynir weather-witch too deep in her cups began to strip off her shimmering robe, complaining loudly about how she was choking in the dry surface air. With the guests' eyes elsewhere, Katherine quickly departed.

She wasn't a quiet woman, nor one with much patience for sneaking around, so she didn't bother making the attempt. As soon as she left the room Katherine pulled herself up to her full height and strode authoritatively down the corridor. This was her fortress, after all. She could go where she wanted. Do whoever - whatever, she corrected herself - she liked. A handful of servants glanced up as she passed, but none moved to question or bar her way, and the corridor with Lord Kensway's statue was mercifully empty. With a quick glance back over her shoulder, Katherine took a breath and slipped into the dusty old storage room.

It was dark inside, with the only light creeping in through a small window set high in the opposite wall. Sheaths of blank parchment sat on a wooden rack, mouldering quietly away beneath a grey shroud of cobwebs, and the floor was cluttered with heavy chests and cargo crates left over from the original expeditionary ships.

"Torja?" Katherine called softly. She slipped off her shoes, distantly wondering how the velvet footwear somehow pinched more than her old marching boots, and looked around. The stone floor was cold beneath her calloused toes, and she felt a brief shiver. "Torja, felgi, are you there?"

There was no answer. After a moment of silence, Katherine swore under her breath. Had someone spotted him? Forced him to go elsewhere? No. She shook her head. She knew Torja; he was too brash for something like that. If someone had challenged him about where he was or what he was doing, he was more likely to just bluntly admit the truth. So, what then? Had he got lost? The longer she waited, the more likely it was she would be missed, but...

A low, lusty growl shook her from her thoughts. She had just enough time to let out another unladylike curse before a pair of muscular arms around her chest and she felt an affectionate lick along her neck.

"Hrrn. Felgi Katherine is slipping. Didn't think to check behind the door." Torja rumbled in amusement. "Torja warned you, didn't he? You're getting soft."

One of his hands worked its way up Katherine's body, shamelessly cupping one of her heavy breasts and kneading it softly through her dress. The other travelled south, stroking once more down her spine before slipping eagerly beneath her skirt. Katherine hissed as she felt a long claw slide along her thigh and work its way under the band of her underwear. Hot breath washed over her bare shoulder. She could hear Torja panting softly and let out a low moan of her own, relaxing into the wolfman's embrace as he explored her body.

"Maybe I've earned it," she murmured, biting her lip and thrusting her chest out. Torja squeezed harder in response, letting her feel the strength in his grip, the sharp points of his claws through the fabric. Something was poking into her lower back, and she laughed under her breath at the Raudkhlo's naked lust. "After all, you seem to be hard enough for us both, lover. Those are lace, by the way. I'd really rather you didn't - "

There was a soft ripping noise and a flush of cold air against her nethers as her undergarments tore away. Katherine didn't have to turn around to imagine the grin on Torja's face. He lifted the shred of fabric like a trophy, letting Katherine see how damp they had become, before flicking them away and nuzzling affectionately into the crook of her neck.

"Stupid things. You look better without them," he murmured.

"Better without this as well?" Katherine flicked the hem of her dress, and Torja growled in wordless agreement. "Are you going to let me take it off, or do you want to ruin it as well?"

"Maybe felgi Katherine go back to party without it. Go as Raudkhlo queen would, bare of all but cloak, crown and paint. Show she has nothing but pride for herself, for what she is, eh? That she has nothing to hide."

Katherine moaned again, the sound low and husky with need. Gods, but the idea appealed. It was insane. Impossible. But the idea of just walking back in there like some primal goddess, pierced and painted and heedless of what anyone might think of her...

She was wet. She was so wet. Her arousal had built, slowly, smouldering away in the pit of her stomach throughout that torturous final half-hour, leaving her tense and tingling with desire. Now it felt as though Torja had thrown pot of oil into the embers, coaxing them into sudden, spectacular fury. Katherine wriggled free of Torja's grip and turned, her tough, square-jawed face bright with passion. She stripped without another world, rolling the gown down her body and kicking it aside.

And it felt right. Her muscled body shone in the pale light, shimmering under the thin sheen of sweat which clung to her pale skin, the old scars and freckles almost dancing across her statuesque form. Torja growled his appreciation and loped forwards, tight muscles rolling under his thick grey fur, his lupine cock already standing hard and proud from its sheath.

They didn't need to speak. That was the truth of it - they understood each other in a way few others would. They were both warriors, as much as Katherine's new duties tried to disguise, with a warrior's needs. Katherine sat atop one of the heavy boxes and spread her legs, letting out a rough gasp as the Raudkhlo surged between them and pushed against her sex.

At first she had feared their lovemaking would be awkward, stilted - they were both used to partners significantly smaller and lighter than themselves, and it might have taken some adjustment to learn one another's rhythms. Thankfully, her worries had been misplaced. They came together as if made for it, Torja's thick, crimson shaft slipping easily between Katherine's lips and gliding into her tight passage until their bodies met with a soft slap. Clawed hands grasped her buttocks and pulled her closer, lifting and spreading her bulging thighs until her feet kicked almost level with the Raudkhlo's hairy shoulders.

"Oh, fuck," Katherine half-gasped, half-snarled. He'd gone deep on the first push, almost hilting himself inside her, and she could feel his shaft throbbing and twitching in her core. It was followed by a second, and then a third, each stroke of the towering wolfman's hips drawing a surge of pleasure and a muffled cry from his partner's throat. Katherine's hands found their way to Torja's chest and stroked upwards, feeling the chorded muscle and old scars tight beneath his fur before tangling among his braids and pulling him close.

They had tried various positions over the months of their affair, but it really was better like this, Katherine thought. It wasn't just because she wasn't the youngest or most limber woman in the world, either. She wanted to see him, to feel him - Torja rose up between her legs like a tower of craggy grey stone and lavished her face and her neck with hot laps of his tongue, his yellow eyes shining in delight as he took in her naked body. It made her feel smaller, somehow. Prettier, more feminine.

"This - this much better than - silly dance - " Torja grunted under his breath. "Next time, we go to - Raudkhlo revel, with - great feast, then great - "

Katherine's low moans rose an octave as the Raudklho began taking her faster. Each thrust seemed to reach a little further into her body, burning its way a little deeper into her core, bringing her a little closer to the release she craved. Fur tickled across her thighs and her belly and the tips of her nipples, the sensation dancing along her nerves, leaving her tight and desperate for the sweet relief of the wolfman's cock plunging into her silken passage.

"Great what?" She forced the words out between hiking breaths. Torja's lips were drawn back in a snarl of concentration, fangs glinting less than a hand span away from her face, eyes narrow with effort. "Tell - tell me what - what you're thinking, felgi."

At first there was nothing but a guttural rasp of effort. The tickle of fur against her thighs had been replaced with the hard, sinewy slap of the wolfman's knot, battering against her sex as his own pleasure began to peak. It was as if he was teasing her with it, giving her a taste of his girth before stealing it away, leaving her aching and desperate for the sweet, final rush of the tie.

Don't have time for that, a voice whispered in the back of Katherine's head. Have to get back to the party. Can't let him tie me. But the thoughts came distantly, sliding from her pleasure-struck mind like water from an oilskin, finding only the most vague and reluctant purchase.

"Raudkhlo men - too many of us - three, four, five for each woman. They only take the best.  Why we - we mate outside our - our kind so - "

"So well?" Katherine panted. Even speaking that much was an effort. Torja snorted a laugh, rewarding the compliment with an affectionate lick along her cheek and a deep grind against her sex.

"So often. But sometimes at - at great revels - they take all. All at once. Show they have stamina equal of our own, eh? One day, Torja invite - invite you as guest. Felgi Katherine certainly earned that honour. Earned right to - to Torja and - as many other warriors as she likes."

Katherine remembered Torja mentioning something like that, once, on the day they had first made love. They had been teasing each other, and she had passed it off as a joke at the time. Now, though? Now she believed it. And, Gods, if this was what it felt like to mate with one of them - one who was smaller than most - what would it be like to be taken by a whole pack?

It was that thought which tipped her over the edge. She came hard around Torja's prick, her legs thrashing and toes clenching in mid-air as the oncoming wave of ecstasy finally broke down her defences. And he just kept going - fucking her relentlessly, grinding his swollen knot against her entrance, nipping at her breasts and doing everything else he could think of to drive her to the very height of climax. All the while, the looming, grey-furred wolfman grunted and snarled, growling broken praise of how strong and beautiful she was, how good she looked, how good she felt...

Reality returned with a snap. "Torja - Torja, get off. Get off me a second, I want to - "

Torja growled desperately by way of reply. They forgot themselves, sometimes, in moments of love and battle alike, discarding thought and speech in favour of simple, berserk instinct. Katherine reached up and wrapped one of her strong hands around the Raudkhlo's muzzle, pulling his head level with hers and looking him in the eye.

"We're swapping places. Torja, do you hear me? Do you understand? I want to try something."

At first there was no reply. For a moment Katherine thought he was lost to the rut, heedless of anything but the desperate need to release himself inside her. He bore down on her relentlessly, every fibre of the Raudkhlo's body vibrating with tension, desperate for release. Finally he shook his head and let out a thin whine as he withdrew from Katherine's muscular body.

"Is something wrong? Was Torja not - "

"Oh, shush," Katherine waved his complaints away, rising on wobbly legs and pushing the wolfman back onto the crate. "You were fine. Better than fine. I just want to, you know." She cleared her throat, feeling her face reddening as she got the words in order. "Try, um. Using my mouth."

Understanding dawned in the Raudkhlo's golden eyes, his ears pricking up in excitement. "Ah! Yes, Torja understands! He wondered why Felgi Katherine had not tried this before."

"Because I haven't done it in bloody ages," she muttered, wincing as she lowered herself onto her knees before him. Torja leaned back and obligingly spread his legs, his tail eagerly flicking back and forth as Katherine shuffled forwards and wrapped her hands around the base of his cock. The sight of the thing always took her breath away; it was wholly lupine in form, long and thick and smooth, tapered into a fine point at the tip and swollen into a knot the size of her fist at the base. It had taken her a few goes to get used to the size of it. How the Raudkhlo women, most of whom were only slightly taller than a human, managed was beyond her.

Magic, probably, she thought distantly. Everything in Fornhiem seemed to come down to magic. Torja's prick jumped in her hand, surging against her fingers and dribbling a thin trail of slippery precome as she pulled it towards her lips.

When was the last time she had done this? Ten years ago, maybe, and she had been drunk at the time. Katherine wracked her brains, trying to dredge up the last clear memories she had of going down on a man. Maybe another half-decade ago, when she had still been a young woman. There had been silken warmth between her lips, the scratch of hair against her nose, a heady rush of bitterness in her mouth. Since then there had been nothing but a few lusty daydreams and a rather embarrassing practice session upon an oddly-shaped vegetable she had taken from the fortress kitchens.

Somehow, that hadn't quite prepared her for the reality of having Torja's cock sticking in her face, hot and red and dripping with precome. Slowly, cautiously, as though she expected the thing to bite her, Katherine leaned in and ran her tongue along the Raudkhlo's shaft. He let out a soft rumble of pleasure and she licked again, more confidently this time, working her way up towards his crown and circling the narrow tip before taking the whole thing into her mouth.

It was saltier than she had expected. Less bitter, with a sharp tang that she awkwardly realised was the taste of her own arousal clinging to the wolfman's prick. Torja sighed again and ran his claws through her hair, content to simply sit back and enjoy himself as Katherine slid inch after in down his shaft, sucking gently and playing her tongue over the burning, throbbing, aching thing in her mouth. Precome dribbled and spurted; she felt it dripping on the back of her tongue and down her throat, forcing her to swallow, spreading the taste of him across her palette.

And it was good. It felt good, to simply give pleasure without expecting anything in return. Katherine shuffled closer and moaned softly around Torja's cock, wrapping her fingers around his knot and squeezing the hard ball of flesh in time with her gentle sucking. The scent of him was everywhere, so thick and heady that it made her head spin and her loins ache, and she found her free hand wandering along the Raudkhlo's thigh to cup his swollen balls. They almost seemed to be throbbing in her palm, and for a moment Katherine imagined them bubbling, seething with the amount of hot, animal seed waiting to be unleashed.

Katherine popped off his cock, stroking it with her free hand as she gazed up the length of Torja's hulking body. The Raudkhlo had gone slack with pleasure. One massive had still cradled her head, but the other hung limply at his side as chest expanded and contracted like a pair of bellows. His head had rolled back, his eyes clouded and vacant, his tongue lolling from his mouth like a drunk.

"That great, hmm?" Katherine raised an eyebrow, idly stroking Torja's cock until he looked down at her. She shot him a lopsided smile and licked a thick bead of precome from his tip. "I must not be as out of practice as I thought."


"Aaaaaaahhhh. Yes. Good. Felgi Katherine very good. Torja always enjoy tongue-worship. Good way to relax. Once had two Geithrnjota, let them share, one either side." The Raudkhlo stroked his claws lovingly down Katherine's face. "This better. Torja not...not last much longer, though."

"Shame you didn't get to use this," Katherine murmured. She leaned in and placed a soft kiss on Torja's knot. His cock throbbed again and she felt a wet drip of something land on her forehead. "But I really want to feel you. On me."

That brought an amused chuckle from the wolfman's throat. "Hah. In that case, Torja not think felgi Katherine in fit state to go back to party. Not unless she wants to be seen painted head to toe, eh?" He leaned forwards, his eyes flashing hungrily down at her. "But Torja think Katherine would look magnificent like that. Show how proud she is of her felgi, to wear his seed before her peers."

Katherine bit her lip, a thrill of pleasure coursing down her spine at the idea. "I'll work something out. Though..." she kissed Torja's knot again, feathering the turgid, veiny thing with adoring pecks. "If I'm going to be that badly wrecked, do you think you'll have another in you?" She glanced up, a sly look on her face. "If I'm not going back any time soon, maybe we'll be able this thing to good use after all."

Torja's eyes lit up with delight. He stood, pushing Katherine back onto her haunches and tugging at his cock. The thing jerked in his grip, weeping beads of pearly liquid that splashed against her thighs like drops of hot wax. "Torja will try. Be ready, felgi, I cannot hold much - "

Whatever the Raudkhlo intended to say dissolved into a long, rasping sigh of release. Katherine had just enough time to rise up onto her knees, tip her head back and push her breasts together before he came. And came, and came, and came - a little thinner than a man's but so much hotter, salty where it fell upon her lips and rich with the wolfman's feral potency. Long streaks of it splashed over her forehead and into her hair, dripping down either side of her nose and running across her cheeks as he moved south, ejaculating into her mouth, across her chin, into the expanse of freckled cleavage Katherine had so obligingly offered up to him.

She was laughing the whole time - snorting and giggling like a schoolgirl, peeking out from underneath long eyelashes as the Raudkhlo's burning seed rained down on her from above. Because it was funny - here she was, the grim, humourless Castellan of a grim, humourless fortress, sitting on her knees as she was painted head to toe with come. It was all so silly, so wildly out of character, there was nothing she could do but laugh - and, as the Raudkhlo's emissions finally begin to slow, lean forwards to wrap her lips around his crown and drink the last of him from the tap.

For a moment the silence was broken only by Torja's heavy breathing and the soft gluck-gluck-gluck as Katherine swallowed, before releasing him to flop back down onto the crate. She took a breath, carefully wiped her eyes, and laughed incredulously as she looked down at herself.

"Gods above, you really weren't lying, were you?"  Katherine rose slowly. Her skin still burned and tingled where Torja's seed had landed. It trickled down her body in slippery runnels, flowing between her muscles and dripping from the proud swell of her chest. It trailed across her rigid abdominals and clung to her biceps, outlining her heroic form like a statue darkened by rain. She drew a hand through the streaks on her chest and held it up, admiring the way it glistened on her fingers before licking them clean. "I hope there's something in here we can use as a towel."

"Bah. Torja will go forth and find you one, if need be. Tell me, though." Torja leaned back, his cock still half-hard and draped against his belly. "Your life-partner. Marius. If he ever learned..."

Katherine frowned for a moment, wondering what the Raudkhlo could mean, then snorted and waved dismissively. "What, Marius? Torja, Marius knows. He's one of the few people who does, outside of rumour and hearsay. You remember how I said there are expectations of people in my position?"

Torja nodded. Katherine stretched and rolled her shoulders. "Part of that is we don't usually marry for love. We marry whoever has the most money, or the best connections, or who our parents are trying to make an alliance with, and have to hope he isn't a colossal bastard after the fact. Love...love comes on the side." She gave Torja a pointed look. "I know for a fact that Marius is having an affair with one of the maids. It's just the done thing."

Torja frowned, chewing things over. Human politics were a source of endless frustration for most Raudkhlo, something for whch Katherine could hardly blame them. Eventually he shrugged. "Bah. Raudkhlo way better. Simpler. Torja not understand how felgi Katherine come from that snake-pit. Too honest for them. More like Raudkhlo in here, eh?"

He banged a hand against his heart. Katherine accepted the compliment with a small smile and a tilt of the head. "They're not that bad. Well. A lot of them are, but I think things are changing."

She stepped forwards, straddling Torja and placing her hands on his shoulders. The Raudkhlo looked up, his ears pricking eagerly as Katherine leaned forwards to kiss his nose. "But I came here to get away from that nonsense. Now." She stroked the side of his head, running her fingers through his braided hair. "I'm going to sit in your lap, and then I want you to tie me so hard I can't see straight. Do you think you can manage that, felgi?"

"Hrr. Torja do better. Torja leave felgi Katherine seeing stars for days."

Something twitched against her leg as Torja's cock rose once more, hot and red and glistening. This time, Katherine knew, there would be no interruptions, no hesitation - nothing stopping her from taking every inch of the wolfman's swollen, knotted prick and riding him until they were both sated. She hissed as it brushed over her entrance, then moaned in raw, unadulterated ecstasy as Torja's hands found their way to her hips and pulled her down onto him. It went on and on, inch after inch of the bloated, crimson thing sliding into the woman's aching sex, until her lips finally came to rest upon the veiny surface of his knot.

"Almost there," Katherine leaned forwards, murmuring the words in Torja's ear as her steely arms moved to circle his torso. Fur tickled over her breasts, soft and warm and inviting, and she felt the Raudkhlo's powerful heartbeat thunder in time with her own. Claws nipped at her backside and her clit sang with pleasure as she began to sweep her hips back and forth, grinding down on the dense, fist-sized lump of sinew at her entrance. At first there was nothing, just the sweet haze of friction and the occasional jerk as Torja sought to thrust up into her embrace. But then, slowly, ever so slowly, Katherine felt herself stretching.

Their first few times together had been almost painful - certainly the experience of being knotted for the first time had caught her off-guard. Now, though, it was something she savoured. Every motion of her hips forced her lips open a little wider; every heartbeat permitted another fraction of the thing entrance to her aching body. It felt as though her whole body was being drawn as tight as her sex. She strained with tension, shaking and digging her fingers into Torja's fur for purchase, her breath coming in short, panting gasps as more and more of the Raudhklo's cock slipped into her passage.

"Oh, Gods. Almost, almost", she whispered. Torja replied with a low growl; she could feel every inch of him pressing against her insides, rubbing over every secret place she had, hot pulses of precome lapping against her walls and easing his progress. She twitched, fluttered, and then -

Stars exploded behind her eyes as she passed the halfway point and the rest of Torja's knot slipped suddenly in. The last inch hit her like a blow from a warhammer, driving the air from her lungs and the thoughts from her skull. The sensation was beyond description - rough and sinewy, stretching and pushing tight against her most sensitive spots, packing her so full of burning, throbbing meat that it felt as though she couldn't breathe. And all the while his tip had burrowed into her very depths, filling every tiny place there was to fill.

She was his, moulded and reshaped for his pleasure. And he was hers, trapped and helpless within a silken vice that hugged tight and refused to let go. Katherine came again then, shuddering and jerking around his knot as it came to rest just past the seal of her lips, straining against Torja's steely body before falling slack. With a low sigh of relief she leaned back and dragged hand over her muscled belly, tracing where she imagined Torja's cock might be inside her. Probably level with her lungs, she thought wryly. At the very least, he'd gotten her heart.

"Mm. The day that stops feeling good is the day I take a short walk of the north tower," Katherine's hand travelled south, two calloused fingers rubbing indulgent circles around her clit. Torja's cock twitched deep in her core, and the grinned at the sensation of it, aching and hard inside her.

"And Torja would follow. Hrn. Going to be here a while, I think."

They began to move together; Katherine grinding, Torja thrusting, making the most of the small motions their tie would allow. Torja lapped at the mighty swell of Katherine's breasts, heedless of the cooling seed still clinging to them as his rough tongue dragged sensually over her nipples. In turn she stroked his arms and rubbed his ears, letting her hands play over hard muscles and old scars, coaxing one another on to their final climaxes. It was quiet, intimate - the final act of two lovers, their passions all but spent, happy now to relax in one another's arms. Kissing would always be difficult for them - the shape of Torja's mouth wasn't conductive towards it - but they tried anyway, pushing their mouths together and letting their tongues dance as they surged and clenched and peaked.

Torja came first. He let out a soft, thin noise and then suddenly Katherine could feel him pouring into her, hot slick and perfect against her walls. That tipped her into her third climax; a small thing compared to the other two, marked by a sudden hitch of breath and a trembling cry. Katherine gave one last shudder before falling slack, lying atop her lover with a smile of contentment on her face.

"You're still going," she murmured, dragging a hand idly across Torja's chest. Spurts of come were still lapping against her walls. A few drips seeped slowly from the point of their union, tinging against her flushed sex as they trickled down her legs. "How do you do that? Is it something you eat?"

"Raudkhlo blessed in many, many ways." Torja sighed happily. "Aaaah. Torja right. Going to be here very long while. Felgi Katherine think she will be missed?"

"Probably," Katherine replied. "But I really don't care."

---

It took almost twenty minutes before Torja's knot had shrunk enough to come free. A glut of thin seed came with it, dripping forth in long, pearly strings as Katherine worked the cramp out of her legs. They salvaged a bale of rough sackcloth from the back of the store-room to wipe themselves down, but flushed, sweaty and - in Katherine's case - smelling rather strongly of wolf, it was almost another hour before she felt confident about returning to the dance.

When she did so it was in a new dress, with her hair brushed and tied simply back. The dance had concluded and many of the guests had retired for the night, but enough remained for Katherine to slip back in without drawing too many strange looks. Marius caught her by the refreshment table as she picked through the remaining scraps and offcuts and loaded up a plate with whatever she could salvage.

"You've been gone almost two hours, where have you been?" he asked, giving his wife an exasperated look. "People have been asking questions!"

"Mm. Yes. Funny story." Katherine swallowed and wiped her mouth with as much decorum as she could muster. "I stepped out for some air and ran into one of the ladies from the washrooms - her child had gone wandering and found themselves lost. Rather than raise the guards, I thought it would look good if I stepped in myself. Turns out he'd got up onto the high shelves of those big pantries down by the kitchens, and was too scared to climb back down."

She shrugged. "Little so-and-so upended an urn of milk over my head before I got him back on the ground, so I had to wash and change. Still, you seem to have held the fort admirably enough without me."

Marius raised an eyebrow. Katherine could tell he was trying not to laugh. "And that's the official story, is it?"

"Absolutely. I am the Castellan, after all, and my word is law."

"Well then. I'm glad everything worked out." They linked arms and turned away from the table, slowly meandering back towards the thinning crowd. Marius shot her a sideways look, the corner of his mouth still quirking up in amusement. "Did you at least have fun?"

Katherine cleared her throat and looked away, staring resolutely off into the middle distance.

"Oh, absolutely."