The Springtide Rite

It was not unusual for Winoa to be called upon late at night. Though Queen Tenebra favoured her winebearer enough to give her the occasional day off, she was known to entertain guests at any hour of the day and thus her servants had to be ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. So it was no great surprise when she was awoken at close to midnight by a sharp rap at the door and rough words calling her to service.

"The Dread Lady's calling for you. Make yourself presentable and get up to her quick, she's in the east tower library."

"Whu - wha's she want?" Winoa yawned blearily, rubbing the sleep from her eyes with the back of her hand. "Winebearer can't bear wine without knowing what wine to bear."

The words came out in a tangled slurry as she swung her slim legs over the edge of her straw bed. Her chambers were rather modest, with little more than her cot in one corner, a dresser in the other and a small bookshelf in against the wall in between, but they were clean and dry and as far as Winoa was concerned that was luxury enough. She kicked off her smallclothes and stumbled over to the dresser, picking one of the diaphanous tunics which made up her uniform at random and shrugging it on.

"She just wants you, girl. No wine tonight." There was a chuckle from the other side of the door. "So I guess you must have been very very good lately...or done something very very bad. Ain't right, a servant wearing that much jewellery. Sure you ain't been stealing?"

Winoa racked her brains, trying to figure out who the speaker was as she pulled on a set of golden armbands and anklets. Grukk, by the sound of it. The gnarled old hobgoblin had never particularly liked her, nor any other of the handful of humans who worked for the Dread Lady. "Oh, I'm sure," she called back, irritably tugging a worn ivory brush through her fluffy blond hair. "The Dread Lady won't have her favoured servants looking any less than their best, after all. Maybe one day she'll be able to spare something for the grunts like yourself."

There was an angry huff from the corridor. "East tower library. Don't keep her waiting," the voice repeated before stomping away, leaving Winoa to glance at her mirror and smirk victoriously. Content that nothing was too far out of place, she slipped from her chambers and into the castle.

Bleakstone Fortress never really slept. Work gangs laboured around the clock to ensure the creaking old ruin was properly maintained and suitably decorated, and the halls rang to the ever-present footsteps of guardsmen and soldiers on patrol. A handful waved or called greetings as she passed, which the young woman graciously returned as she made her way up the winding corridors towards the east tower. Others simply stared appreciatively, which in Winoa's mind was no less welcome. She knew she was pretty, with delicate features that could be quite at odds with her temper and a comely body which rarely failed to turn heads.

Combined with her...accommodating nature, it was little surprise the young woman was a regular staple at Tenebra's frequent, lavish orgies and a favourite of those soldiers unable to get the time off to visit a brothel. The extra coin she made from that helped pay for her growing collection of books. One day, Winoa thought, once she was as clever and educated as Francis, Tenebra might see fit to give her something to do beyond carrying pots of wine around and looking pretty.

The orgies could stay, mind. Winoa did enjoy those.

The east library was one of the oldest and smallest. In truth, it was more of a store than a library, used to keep those volumes Tenebra had little practical use for but for one reason or another refused to dispose of. Three of the craggy stone walls were hidden behind groaning, overburdened shelves, the volumes they held overgrown with cobwebs and blooms of pale mould. The fourth sheltered a small reading desk situated beneath the room's solitary window. Clouds circled outside, swollen and heavy with the threat of rain.

Winoa found Queen Tenebra there, pouring over a faded paper scroll which lay unfurled across the desk. She was a tall woman, as smooth and pale as a statue wrought from the finest marble, clad in a simple black gown which clung to her willowy figure like a second skin. It was odd, Winoa thought, to see her dressed so plainly. For a moment she lingered in the doorway, until the dark lady seemed to grow aware of her presence and silently beckoned her to enter.

"I am here, mistress," she said. "You called for me?"

"Mmm. I did." Tenebra murmured, distracted. She frowned, her eyes narrowing as she stared at the parchment, then let out a small sigh and rose elegantly from the desk. "I have a task for you, Winoa. One of utmost importance, which can be trusted to no other. Ideally I would perform it myself, but it requires the sacrifice of something which I abandoned many years ago."

Sacrifice? Winoa hesitated for a moment, her pride at having been selected for such an important duty suddenly quashed by the anxiety of what she might actually have to do. But the prospect of advancement within Tenebra's labyrinthine court steeled her nerves. This, she thought, could be it. Her moment.

"I am yours, my queen," she said, looking the dark lady in the eye and holding her voice steady. "But I don't understand - what can I do that you can't?"

Tenebra laughed once, softly, under her breath. She was beautiful, Winoa thought - her features sharp and regal, the elegant sweep of her cheekbones softened by bright, playful eyes and full lips. "It isn't what you can do, my winebearer. It is what you would have to give up." She smiled, the expression strange and coy. "Namely, your innocence."

"Innocence?" Winoa blinked. Of all the things she had expected Tenebra to say, that had been the last. "My lady, I - I wasn't exactly a maid when you took me on, and the things I've done since then - "

"Were still, in the grand scheme of things, rather mundane. Oh, you've taken two or three men at once during the revels, dabbled a little outside your own kind, and I know you perform favours for the guards in exchange for coin. No, no," Tenebra waved away Winoa's flustered protest. "I don't disapprove. In fact, you have my blessing to continue. They do get rather tense, and sadly it would be...inappropriate to soothe them all in person. In your old home these things would have caused an uproar, but here, they are..."

"Everyday facts of life?" Winoa suggested, raising her eyebrows suggestively. Tenebra's eyes flashed with amusement.

"Yes! Yes, exactly," she said, forcing down a wide grin. "There are grades of innocence, and few of my courtiers hold onto theirs for long. You, fortunately, retain enough for my needs."

Winoa nodded. She could see where this was going. "And you need me to give it up. Right. Okay. Who do you want me to fuck?"

The other woman snorted with laughter. It was strange, Winoa thought. She had never seen her queen act so casually. Oh, she was trying to hide it with the same skill she applied to all the roles she played, but away from her court and her throne something seemed to have slipped.

And then it was gone, hidden once more behind a knowing look and a coy smile. Tenebra gestured towards the reading table. The scroll was covered in arcane sigils, knotted over and around one another in twisting, circular patterns. At its centre she recognised a crude pictogram of a female figure.

"I don't know the first thing about magic," Winoa said, "but those symbols are different to what's carved into Ix's cell, right? So whatever this is, it's got nothing to do with demons."

"Very good," Tenebra said. "No, this is fae script. The scroll describes a piece of very old, very powerful magic, hinged upon a bargain struck between mortal and fae powers. Put simply you might think of it as a fertility rite used to bless a region. Fields would give up more crops, childbirth would become easier, illnesses more easily shrugged off. Given in exchange for a mortal woman's innocence." She gave Winoa a piercing look. "I am nothing if not a generous queen, and you understand how much this would benefit my subjects."

Winoa did know. She had grown up in Moonspore, one of the sad, impoverished hamlets which clung to Tenebra's petty fiefdom for protection. Life there had been short, hard and unpleasant, and she very much doubted it was different anywhere else.

"So it's a fae, right? I didn't think there were any around here. Aside from those sprites."

"And they lack both the power and attention span for such works, correct. No, I have had this in my possession for a long time, but lacked either a fae being or a sufficiently innocent woman in my service. This is the first time I have had both." Tenebra paused for a moment. Winoa held her breath. She could sense her queen was building up to something - not quite mustering her courage, but considering her words with great care.

"You have met the Forest King, yes?"

"The wolf?" Winoa asked. It was a huge thing, burly and savage, with midnight-black fur and all manner of barbs and quills bristling in its coat. "Yes, I - well, no. I've seen it, seen him passing through the grounds on occasion, but never up close. Why?"

Tenebra remained silent. The colour drained from Winoa's face. "Oh. Oh, no. No, no no. That's, um, that's a bit too far. I'm not - I'm not fucking that thing."

"Why not?" Tenebra asked. Her tone was soft and placid, almost curious. "Is it so strange?"

"Yes! It's an animal! Or - I don't know, it's close enough! You don't - people don't do that!"

"I already have. Several times, in fact," Tenebra remarked blandly. "And I can assure you, whatever form he takes, the Forest King is far more intelligent than most mortals. Limited in vision, perhaps. He cares about very little. But he knows himself, and his wants, and what he does when he acts upon them."

Silence reigned. Winoa felt as though her legs were about to give out from under her. She wobbled and sat down heavily on a stack of old boxes, throwing up a plume of thick dust that hung in the air between the two women. Neither spoke until it had settled.

"Why?" Winoa asked. "I mean - I've heard the stories. All the servants have. That you summon demons and lie with them for pleasure, pay favours to a nation of lizards who walk like men and sleep with the ambassadors who come to you seeking an audience. I never cared about any of that, but - "

She fell silent again. Part of her still couldn't believe what she had heard. The idea of her queen, hunched on all fours beneath a great, black wolf, was so strange and alien that it refused to take form in her head. How could someone so regal, she thought, so dignified, stoop to such levels? It was wrong. Perverse. Impossible.

Tenebra sighed. She stared up at the ceiling as she gathered her thoughts, drumming her fingers pensively against her desk.

"Why not?" she said eventually. "No source of pleasure, Winoa, should be refused, no matter how strange it might seem at first glance. Nothing is forbidden. Nothing is taboo, at least so long as all are in agreement, and I can assure you, the Forest King is most vigorous in showing his consent. There are gods who disapprove of such things, but they have been silent for a long time now, and their commandments made little enough sense even when they were enforced."

The dark lady reached over, placing a hand on Winoa's bare shoulder. "I've followed your development here with great interest, Winoa. You are, like me, a being who strives for pleasure in all things, who relishes the chance to bestowing it as much as she enjoys receiving it. Am I correct?"

Winoa knew herself too well to lie. Tenebra had seen through to the truth of her from their first meeting. She glanced up at the other woman and, for the briefest of moments, felt a sudden and all-consuming terror at the sight of the pale, serene figure staring back. It was so easy to look at Tenebra and see nothing more than the pantomime she was so fond of or the debauchery she wallowed in. It was so easy to miss the intelligence, the cunning, the awesome magical potential which seethed beneath her ivory skin.

And so she merely nodded silently, the cold, leaden weight in her stomach strangling any attempt at speech. Because Tenebra was right. She was a sexual being. She always had been, from her clandestine experimentation with the boys in her village, to her clumsy first forays into prostitution and her eager participation in Tenebra's orgies. It was like an itch in the back of her head which refused to be scratched, silently demanding more, more, more.

"Exactly. And you crave more, but you hold yourself back. You limit yourself by clinging to taboos that ceased to have any meaning when you joined my court. Understand that this is not a criticism. Most people who step up to the edge of a cliff hesitate before leaping off. But," she placed a finger under Winoa's chin, raising the girl's head until their eyes met. "Sometimes, that leap is necessary. After all, how else can a bird learn to fly?"

"What - what if I say no?"

Tenebra shrugged a narrow shoulder. "Nothing. You will go back to your duties and life will continue. Nothing will change, for better or worse, for yourself or my subjects. Perhaps you might wonder, in the cold nights, what might have happened had you agreed, but that is outwith my control."

"And - " Winoa swallowed hard, choking down the tight knot of anxiety in her gut. "And if I say yes?"

"We will conduct the rite. The day after tomorrow, I think. Tracking the Forest King down can take time. You will lie with him, as I lay with him, and then..." the ghost of a smile flickered over Tenebra's face. "We will see if I am as good a teacher as I fancy myself as. Consider it an induction into the higher mysteries of my court, if that pleases you."

Time seemed to stretch. Winoa stared into Tenebra's clever green eyes for what felt like an eternity before giving her answer.

"Yes."

---

Bleakstone Fortress was aptly named. It sat within a savage tangle of peaks and sheer cliffs, barren of all but the hardiest and most stubborn forms of life. The territories which lay beyond were little better - arable land was thin and patchy, and much of the landscape itself had been twisted by strange forms of magic and aberrant flora. Winoa had been raised in the hardscrabble poverty of such an environment and assumed the rest of Tenebra's domain was little different.

So it came as a surprise to find herself at the borders of a lush woodland. Tall, proud beeches and oaks rose up from the barren earth, their trunks skirted by dense mats of ferns and linked by trailing creepers. The fresh scent of wet, green things hung invitingly in the air and long blades of grasp tickled Winoa's thighs as she walked cautiously forwards and peered into the emerald maze before her. It seemed lighter here as well - the pervasive gloom which hung over the region had abated, bathing the forest's borders in a warm, golden glow.

A small cart sat at her back. The journey had taken hours, winding and doubling back through dozens of suicidally narrow passes, but Bleakstone still loomed in the near distance. Whatever this place was, Winoa thought, Tenebra obviously wanted its location kept secret. She doubted even Francis would be able to retrace the path they had taken to get here. Greyscale lounged in the driver's seat, a smoke-twist clenched in his narrow jaws. He caught her eye as she glanced back and gave her an encouraging thumbs-up.

Too far to back out now, Winoa thought. Every moment they had ridden through the mountains had torn her with doubt and anxiety. She felt as though she was being pulled in two directions at once - between her hesitation, her fear of breaking the taboos which bound her old community together, and the hungers service at Tenebra's court had inspired. Every flicker of excitement was curdled by a reflexive spasm of fear. Every self-conscious worry competed with a surge of anticipation.

Five bright lights circled overhead as she stepped forwards. The sprites were whimsical and easily distracted creatures, but certainly intelligent enough to serve as guides. They flittered between the trees, their wings buzzing merrily, laughing and singing as they led Winoa deeper into the forest and on to her fate.

It wasn't long before Winoa noticed something was wrong. No, she thought; not wrong, just...odd. The canopy overhead was so dense she could barely see the sky, but the forest remained as warm and bright as if she was standing under the noonday sun. Plants seemed to flex and twist quite at odds with the gentle breeze which stirred the air, moving out of her path and turning to admire her as she passed them by. From time to time Winoa would have even sworn she saw faces in the bark which surrounded her, with sharp, twiggy noses and curious knothole eyes.

"It's magic," she said, glancing up at the spites. "Isn't it? This whole forest is magical."

One of them, its tiny, feminine body haloed with sparkling blue light, simply giggled and waved her on further.

Soon Winoa found the trees thinning enough to offer glimpses of the sky. Something seemed to shimmer in the air - a ripple that was more felt than seen, sharpening Winoa's senses and hastening her steps. A few more meters and the treeline ended, opening up to reveal a broad clearing split down the middle by a bubbling stream. Tenebra stood at its banks, clad in a long, white robe and holding the ritual scroll in her hands, next to a smooth-topped altar and -

Winoa's heart stopped. Even sitting on his hind legs, the Forest King was huge. He easily came up to Tenebra's shoulder and seemed almost more bear than wolf, his enormous body rippling with stocky muscle and criss-crossed by dozens of old scars. Fangs as long as her fingers jutted from the spirit's muzzle, and his inky-black fur rippled with rows of quills running down his back and the length of his tail. He turned as she broke the treeline, his ears pricking up as his eyes, golden-yellow and full of malevolent intelligence, locked on hers.

The winebearer's courage almost failed her then and there. For a moment she wanted nothing more than to run - to flee back into the trees like a frightened doe, to be chased down by this, this predator, this ancient and hungry thing, to be caught and pushed into the earth and -

Devoured? Mounted?

She moaned softly, her mind twisting itself into a knot of fear and arousal and guilt. It was only when Tenebra placed a hand on the Forest King's head and beckoned her to approach that Winoa found the strength to stumble forwards, unable to tear her eyes away from the looming, black-furred creature which awaited her.

Her sex pulsed, a hot throb of arousal suddenly striking her unbidden, so intense it was almost painful. Winoa faltered and would have fallen had Tenebra not caught her arm and pulled her back to her feet.

For a moment the two women simply stared at each other. "What - what is this place?" Winoa whispered.

Tenebra lifted her head, looking out over the clearing. "A font of magic," she said, lowering her hood. A garland of flowers sat upon her brow, bright blue and yellow against her dark hair. "A wellspring, if you like. Pure and untainted, sacred in a way few chapels can ever be." Her tone was soft and almost reverential. "The lines between woman, spirit and beast become blurred in places like this. You felt it for a moment, didn't you?"

"I felt...something," Winoa agreed.

"Here, our instincts come to the fore. Reason and logic have less power." Tenebra ran her fingers through the Forest King's coat, eliciting a low rumble of pleasure from the great beast. "Just as they, in turn, become a little more like us. In ancient times these sites would have been places of communion, where emissaries from different worlds would come to meet." She smiled for a moment. "I suppose today we are reigniting that tradition."

"That's one way of putting it," Winoa mumbled under her breath. She glanced at the Forest King again. "So how are we - how does this work? How did you...was it on all fours?"

Tenebra smiled coyly. "Eager to be underway?"

The Forest King shifted restlessly, his tail flicking from side to side. His claws were more akin to talons, gouging shallow divots in the earth where he sat, and between them Winoa could just make out the tip of the great wolf's cock peeking from his sheath, bright pink amidst fluffy black. His coat looked softer there, she noticed, invitingly so. For a moment she imagined running her hands through the silky fur, feeling the beast's heavy, eager breaths beneath her fingers as she lapped at his shaft.

Winoa swallowed. There was a familiar heat building in her belly. Not the treacherous stab of pleasure that had struck her earlier, but the slow-swelling burn of genuine lust. She realised she was panting and fought to control herself.

"Just - just want to know what I have to do," she said. "So the ritual doesn't get messed up."

"Of course," Tenebra said, accepting the lie without pause. "For what it's worth, yes, the first time I took him it was on all fours. You will have to lie atop the altar, so the experience will be somewhat different. All that is required is that you bring him to completion, which I doubt will be greatly difficult."

The altar was perhaps a meter and a half in length, smoothly rounded like a stone plucked from the beach and carved with the same looping whorls she had seen upon Tenebra's scroll. A small divot had been cut near the closest edge, leading to a channel which emptied into a simple earthen bowl placed by its base.

"For capturing his issue," Tenebra explained. "At the culmination of the rite."

"Oh," Winoa said. "Lovely. Do I just hop on up, then?"

"You might wish to undress first," Tenebra smirked. Then she raised a hand and let her fingers dance through the air. The ground shook and a twisting vine sprouted towards her palm, looping around it and twisting into a crown. The same blue and yellow flowers which decorated Tenebra's brow sprouted across it in a bloom of colour. "And wear this."

"Is that part of the rite?" Winoa asked doubtfully. Before leaving, she had exchanged her fragile, gossamer servant's gown for plain garments more suitable for travel, and as she undressed found herself almost glad to be rid of them. Her golden jewellery remained, shining brightly on her naked limbs, as a token nod to her own vanity. The Forest King cocked his head, and for a moment the winebearer wondered if the great spirit appreciated the sight of them.

"Oh, no, not at all. But one must always look the part." The queen's eyes glittered with amusement. "No matter what."

She offered the crown to Winoa, who took it silently. She turned it over in her hands, staring at the curling, still-living vines, before slowly placing it atop her blonde head.

The Forest King growled in approval, the sound low and volcanic. Despite everything Winoa managed a smirk.

"Well, I'm glad you appreciate it. Okay." She took a short breath. "Let's do this."

As Tenebra led her servant to the altar, Winoa remembered something about her queen's attire. Once, when she was very young, a trio of druids had come to her hamlet to study the bloated fungi which grew there. They had kept themselves to themselves, speaking of theories about the monstrous growths being influenced by phases of the moon before departing, but they had dressed in hooded robes very similar to that which Tenebra wore. The dark lady was known for her expansive library of garments, of course. And such robes were hardly unique to druidic orders. But Winoa wondered.

As she climbed up onto the ritual stone, something caught Winoa's eye. Shapes were moving around the edge of the clearing; sleek, lupine shapes, perhaps half a dozen, their eyes glowing with pale fire. The paced around the periphery, slowly drifting closer until they stood restlessly upon the other side of the river, their haunting gaze locked upon the trio. Winoa gave her queen a worried look, who offered a reassuring smile in return.

"His pack," Tenebra explained, inclining her head towards the Forest King. "He awakened them, gifting a handful of the native beasts here a portion of his intelligence. Like him they know themselves, understand reason and speech, and serve most excellently as guardians of this place."

"Is that all they serve as?" Winoa raised an eyebrow. Tenebra offered no reply but a faint smile, and once she was sure Winoa was set in place over the waiting channel, stepped smoothly out of the way and unfurled her scroll. The altar was warm and smooth beneath the winebearer's naked buttocks, and for a moment Winoa could almost imagine herself laying back and dozing off under the balmy sun above.

And then the Forest King stepped forwards.

Winoa's stomach lurched. This was it, she thought. Again she felt the urge to flee boiling up inside, her mind seething with the hapless terror of a million doomed prey animals. A glance towards Tenebra quelled it. Her queen had done this. She had even enjoyed the experience. Winoa resolved she would as well.

Taking a breath to steady herself, Winoa leaned back and spread her legs, shamelessly baring her sex to the approaching wolf. The first faint drops of arousal clung there already, glimmering softly in the light, and the Forest King's nose twitched as he caught her scent. He advanced with sedate arrogance, muscles rolling beneath his thick coat, and the winebearer could feel his eyes drinking in the sight of her splayed out and ready. A faint tremor of lust ran down her spine at the thought, and she moaned softly as the great spirit leaned in to sniff her outstretched leg.

"That's it," she whispered. "Come on, come on, before I change my mind..."

She could see him, his hardness, hanging between his rear legs. Smooth and pinkish-red, wrapped in a lattice of delicate purple veins, the Forest King's cock was like nothing she had seen before. It was huge, far larger than anything she had taken before, and the idea that it was minutes away from sinking into her, knotting her, filling her full of his animal seed...

Winoa shuddered again. She didn't know if it was from fear or excitement. There was a nobility to him, she thought; he was proud and cruel in equal measure. For a moment she imagined him as some manner of foreign prince, broad and heavily-set, his brooding features hidden behind a thick black beard. Perhaps that would have been easier, but the image soon vanished. Only the wolf remained.

The Forest King prowled closer, his fur tickling against her bare skin as he closed the last few steps. A puff of warm air ghosted over the winebearer's sex as he sniffed her, and she let out a sharp cry as the cold point of his nose brushed against her lips. But even that was nothing compared to what she felt as he opened his fanged maw and licked.

The first stroke was like lightning; a revelation, driving the last persistent doubts from her mind. The Forest King's tongue was far larger and thicker than a man's, and he used it with a selfish, greedy enthusiasm which left Winoa wracked and helpless with pleasure. She cried out again and clung tight to the edge of the ritual stone, her curvaceous hips bucking and shuddering as the great wolf tasted her sex. Each sweep of his tongue parted her labia before lapping up to flick cruelly against her clit, leaving her breathless and shaking.

It was almost too intense, too pleasurable. Winoa jerked back, struggling to catch her breath, only to force herself back into position as the Forest King growled in irritation and nipped at her thighs. Afterwards, Winoa would marvel at how such a monstrous beast could have bitten her without drawing blood, but in the heat of the moment she could do nothing but yield to the Forest King's command and the pleasure he assailed her with. His tongue was so hot, she thought, so beautifully rough and slick with thick saliva. It dragged across her sensitive flesh, teasing each fresh moan from her throat with gusto.

Winoa could feel her muscles tensing, her round breasts becoming heavy and sensitive as more and more heat pooled in her belly. It no longer mattered that she was being eaten out by a wolf, even an intelligent one; the idea that it would soon be atop her, its animal prick buried in her sex hardly seemed worthy of consideration. All that mattered was the pleasure he could bestow upon her. And that, in time, she would bestow upon him in return.

No sooner had the thought crossed her mind, the Forest King let out a breathy huff and dove deeper, finally parting her flushed lips with his tongue and drinking her growing slick from its source. Almost as thick as a man's cock, it writhed and lapped against her walls, seeking out her most sensitive places and lashing them without respite. And he used it like a cock, working it in and out until she tensed and screamed and clenched around the piece of throbbing meat, desperate for the climax she knew must be fast approaching.

And then he stopped. Suddenly there was nothing but silence, the sounds of the forest and Tenebra's soft voice as she incanted her rite. It was so abrupt that Winoa leaped in surprise, fearing some hidden hunter had slain the Forest King with an arrow while they were both distracted. Instead she found herself staring into his eyes, golden and filled with cruel amusement, lips drawn back over his fangs in something that might have been a grin.

His cock twitched between his legs, thick and red and dripping with precome. Winoa glanced at it anxiously. It looked to have almost doubled in size and was wholly animal in shape. She let out a soft whimper and cast her eyes at Tenebra. The Forest King's pack had rallied around her, pacing in lazy circuits while the dark lady drew spiralling patterns which hung in the air and burned with green fire. Her attention was wholly on her work.

No help there, then, Winoa thought.

Her body still throbbed with need, so intense she thought it would drive her mad. Without the Forest King's ministrations to keep them silent, a handful of doubts slithered back into the corners of her mind, whispering with the voices of her old neighbours. Whore, they said. Dirty slut. So wanton she'll lay with anything, even an animal. Like a bitch in heat.

Then out of the corner of her eye, Winoa caught Tenebra looking at her. There was no expectation in the woman's clever eyes, no impatience or judgement; just a faint curiosity, even as the Forest King snarled in frustration and the ritual began to sputter and fail.

Winoa swallowed. She strangled the voices quiet, driving them furiously from her mind. They were gone, relics of a past she wanted nothing more to do with. The future lay before her. With an irritated grunt, she leaned down and slapped the Forest King's nose.

"What are you waiting for, huh?" She snapped, ignoring the spirit's furious bark in reply. "An invitation? Get up here and fuck me, you hairy bastard, we've kept the queen waiting long enough."

And then he was on top of her. He was everywhere, he was everything, blotting out the glade with his huge black body and demanding every iota of her attention. The Forest King pounced and knocked Winoa flat against the altar, driving the air from her lungs as he sought to teach the troublesome mortal he had been promised her place. She yelped in excitement, the sound almost a laugh, lifting her hips and raising her legs to embrace his hairy, hulking form as he stabbed towards her entrance. Winoa felt his ribs expand and contract with each massive breath as she wrapped her arms around the huge wolf-spirit, hugging him close, his softer belly-fur tickling over her sensitive breasts.

A thick animal scent filled the air. His cock skidded along her thigh, leaving a trail of precome and dragging a needy moan from her lips. Winoa had expected a brief eternity of frustration as they aligned their bodies, but it seemed Tenebra had given the great beast plenty of practice. They collided on the third attempt, the blunt head of his cock finding her entrance and shoving possessively inside.

Neither did he give the winebearer a chance to catch her breath. With his hind legs digging into the loamy earth and his forepaws gripping the altar, the Forest King fucked her hard and fast. He was more than possessive - he was rough and dominant, growling and snapping at the air as he rutted his bestial shaft into the soft, willing body beneath. She could do little but cling on for dear life, seizing handfuls of his thick fur for purchase, wailing and moaning in unbridled lust as she was claimed by her bestial lover.

Winoa loved it. No, more than loved it; she yearned for it, demanded it, eagerly taking everything the Forest King could offer. Every sensation was so wonderfully new, from the scratchy tickle of his fur dragging over her fair skin to the bassy rumble of his snarls in her ear. If this was wrong, Winoa thought, then she didn't want to ever be right again. Tenebra was correct. There was no higher ideal than pleasure, and she felt no regret as the rite burned away her last few shreds of innocence. Her only regret was that the great spirit's sheer pace, his aggression, gave her little chance to appreciate how beautifully different he was from her past lovers.

Winoa had taken two men at once before, but even that paled compared to how full, how beautifully satiated, the Forest King's prick made her feel. She trembled like a leaf, moaning throatily and pushing back in time with the great beast's movements, desperate to feel more, to take him deeper, to savour the mad rush of such a savage and primal mating. His cock was far hotter than a man's, and so large each thrust was punctuated by a dull ache in her gut whenever the great, feral spirit slammed it home. But the pain faded with each motion and the illicit joy which coursed through her only grew, and this time she did laugh, a wild sound of debauched liberation as she spiralled towards her climax.

There was something pushing against her entrance, Winoa realised; something vast and bloated, pulsing in time with the great beast's frantic heartbeat. She moaned in recognition, knowing what the Forest King wanted from her and surrendering it eagerly, craning her legs wider, rolling her hips up until he was able to press himself tight against her wet, throbbing entrance. She wouldn't have been able to resist in any case. She wouldn't have wanted to. The idea of taking the great spirit into her deepest, most intimate places, of being knotted and tied and flooded with his hot, animal seed was like a drug. It drove all other thoughts from her mind.

The pressure grew. The Forest King's thrusts had ceased, replaced with a constant, determined force as he sought to pack the last of himself into Winoa's eager body. His rising growl was matched by the winebearer's long, throaty cries of ecstasy as he throbbed inside her, his animal prick spilling thick pulses of precome against her walls in preparation for what was coming. Winoa gritted her teeth and locked her legs around the Forest King's body, pulling him close, their bodies singing with tension as they fought to close the last few inches between them.

There was a wet, slick noise. Winoa screamed. She felt a rush of pain as something gave way, quickly swept away by an even more intense surge of pleasure as she came, twitching, clenching and crying around the Forest King's knot as it forced its way into her eager body.

For a moment there was nothing. The world collapsed into white and black, a wave of ecstasy so intense Winoa almost feared it would burn her alive, and the sound of an animal heartbeat pounding in her ears. When she came too, she found the Forest King collapsed atop her, his heavy body slack and panting with exertion. The sun had dimmed a little, and the faint cramp in her shoulders suggested they had lain there together for some time. As she did her best to stretch, Winoa realised she could feel the spirit's knot lodged just inside her entrance. It was achingly hard and sinewy, and it pulsed in time with what must have been a near-endless flow of come being pumped deep into her core.

Bestial come, animal come, she thought distantly, flopping back against the altar stone with a lazy smile spread over her face. The Forest King grumbled and shifted atop her, the sensation of his knot turning inside her and tugging at her lips almost enough to spill her over into a second orgasm. It was like nothing she had ever felt before - so deep, so intimate, a sweet pressure that only grew as he came and came deep into her core. Soon long, pearly strings of the stuff began to drip from the site of their union, soothing and tingling her battered, sensitive flesh as it trickled down into the waiting bowl.

The Forest King's flanks heaved with exertion. Winoa found herself stroking him, running her fingers through his thick coat and murmuring small, meaningless words as they wallowed in the afterglow of their debauchery. The great spirit twisted to bring his head down to hers and licked the winebearer's cheek.

"I think he likes you," Tenebra said. She stood not far away, watching the mismatched couple with a warm smile on her regal face. "He was never so caring with me on our first time, though I think this place improves his temperament some. Isn't that right, you great brute? Perhaps we might even get to rub your belly, at least once you've finally come unstuck from my dear winebearer."

Winoa felt the Forest King vibrate as he growled a reply, though there was little malice in the sound. "Is - did the, the ritual work?" She murmured, turning so she could make out her queen past the blanket of inky hair shrouding her vision. Tenebra's face was flushed, Winoa realised, and the queen's breath came in small, carefully-controlled pants. The rest of the pack circled her eagerly, huffing excitedly and occasionally tugging at the hem of her robe.

"Oh, yes. You won't feel the difference here, and it will take a few days for the effects to make themselves known across the land. But the rite was a success."

The Forest King growled again. He shifted and tugged restlessly, each movement sending another pulse of soft, warm pleasure through Winoa's depths. She moaned softly and wriggled a hand between their bodies, sliding her fingers over her clit and caressing her entrance. She could feel his knot there, trapped in the silken embrace of her lips, and shuddered in silent ecstasy as he began to work it free. Tenebra watched silently, her smile never faltering for a moment, until there was a wet, sucking pop and the great wolf sprang back from the altar.

There was a moment of pain and, strangely, a sensation almost akin to loss as the Forest King broke their tie. Winoa felt a torrent of his seed spill forth from her entrance as he departed and idly ran her fingers through the wet slick, bringing it to her lips and licking her fingers clean. She had expected the Forest King to leave her broken and exhausted, but if anything she felt...energised. The post-coital haze was clearing from her mind, her heart beat strongly in her chest and her limbs felt fresh and limber. Something about the glade, Winoa thought as she sat up. Something about the wild magic in the air.

"So what happens now?" She asked, turning to face her queen.

Tenebra shrugged. She took the bowl and murmured a few words before tipping it back and drinking the contents with relish. "Your part in this is done. You may return to the castle, if you wish; Greyscale will see you back safely and, if you fear what the other servants might say, secretly."

The Forest King had slouched down next to the altar, raised one of his massive legs and set about the job of cleaning himself. His pack, however, were circling and bounding around the dark lady with increasing vigour. Tenebra scratched their ears and extended her hands to be licked, and almost absent-mindedly lifted the hem of her robe as one particularly bold wolf pushed its head between her legs. By the way Tenebra shook, Winoa has no doubt it was doing more than sniffing.

Slowly Winoa climbed down from the altar. She tested her legs and found them capable of holding her weight, then gathered her abandoned clothes and walked towards the treeline. Something made her stop, however. She chewed her lip, overtaken by the sudden urge to turn around and watch what she knew must, surely, be happening behind her.

Your part is done, Tenebra had said. You may return to the castle, if you wish. It had been a suggestion, not a commandment.

Did she wish?

Winoa lingered for a moment more, then turned. "What happens if I stay?" she asked. The Forest King raised his head briefly, giving her a look of cool disinterest before turning to his ministrations.

Tenebra's robe was gone. It lay at her feet like a puddle of moonlight. She stood naked without it, her slender body was flushed with arousal, her nipples standing out like stiff peaks in the cool air. The dark queen sank to her knees and offered no complaint as the first wolf mounted her, its cock slipping easily into her sex without resistance. For a moment her eyes drifted closed and she shuddered with visible bliss, before her calm, steady gaze and mysterious smile reasserted themselves.

"Then you will have truly learned the lesson I sought to teach," Tenebra called back.

For a heartbeat Winoa lingered, torn with indecision. Then she let out a shuddering breath and walked back towards her mistress. The pack broke ranks smoothly to let her through, and knelt down next to the taller woman. Tenebra's smile widened in approval, and then - the brief nip of claws, the whisper of fur and the heavy weight on her back, and the heat and hardness of an animal prick in her sex.

Soon the glade echoed to the sound of feminine moans and low, bestial snarls and pants. The wolves bucked and heaved atop the two women, frantically sating their lusts upon the queen and her winebearer with equal enthusiasm. Winoa and Tenebra fucked like beasts in turn, rutting back against their feral partners, each fully in the grip of their basest instincts. The winebearer could barely take her eyes off Tenebra; the sight of her queen on hand and knee, her elegant spine arched in pleasure, gasping softly as she was mated by a lean grey wolf was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen.

Tomorrow, Winoa knew, things would return to normal. Rank and title would reassert themselves. Tenebra would be a queen again, and she her servant. But until then there was nothing but the tyranny of the now, stretching on into an eternity of bliss.

Neither beast knotted on the first attempt. Winoa groaned as she felt a hot rush in her sex, the throaty sound turning from one of pleasure to disappointment as the wolf slipped free of her prone form. The beast's cock was still twitching and spurting helplessly as it wandered around to her front, whining pitifully as another member of the pack began to scrabble into position behind her.

Tenebra had already been mounted again; the dark lady had slumped forwards and pushed her hindquarters high in the air to give the scarred old brute fucking her a better angle. It bared its fangs at the other wolves which slunk around her and growled possessively, drooling long strings of saliva as it slammed its furry hips against Tenebra's thighs. She caught Winoa's eye and gave a soft, happy moan.

"Look at you," she murmured, her voice almost lost beneath the wolf's feral snarls. Tenebra nodded in approval as Winoa hesitantly reached for the first beast's dripping organ and guided it between her lips. "You give pleasure so wonderfully. So wantonly."

The thing was hot in her mouth, smoother and harder than a man's prick but somehow far more delicate. Winoa sucked gently, the sharp tang of her juices melting into the deep, musky taste of the wolf's seed as it came and came. The wolf's thin whines vanished in and instant, and Winoa felt her heart soar as it barked and panted in obvious joy. She swallowed its thin seed gratefully, letting it pool in her belly as the next finally scrabbled forwards and mounted her.

And it felt good. She was getting fucked by a wolf and it felt good. A few days ago the idea would have appalled her, but the Winoa of a few days ago already felt like a different person. Out of the corner of her eye she counted three or four beasts still pacing impatiently as they waited their turn, their red, bestial pricks stiff and desperate. Two more for them each, Winoa thought, if they were keeping things fair. And then perhaps the first few would have recovered enough to mount them again...

Mating with the Forest King had been a thunderous, elemental, almost maddeningly intense experience. He gave his partners little chance to think about what was happening. But his pack? She could feel the tickle of fur against her back and the gentle scratch of claws on her skin. The way the wolf fucking her clung to her hips with its hind legs. Its rough, animal breathing, the heavy scent of musk in the air and the slow patter of drool trickling down the back of her neck. The lingering taste of seed on her lips as her first partner finally withdrew.

Winoa moaned and shook with pleasure. She could feel everything. Savour everything. A chorus of high, lusty cries spoke of Tenebra's own rapture, and before long Winoa's voice joined with hers as the two women shuddered in climax. Tied firmly to their mates, trails of thin, burning seed leaking down their thighs, each turned to sating the Forest King's courtiers with their lips, licking and sucking each beast in turn until they were ready to be mounted again. And again, and again, and again...

And though he feigned disinterest, soon enough the Forest King himself rose from his lazy slouch and padded over, butting one of his followers aside and taking its place atop Tenebra. Momentarily freed from the great spirit's packmates, Winoa rolled onto her back and shuffled beneath her queen, lapping the slick of spend seed and arousal from the other woman's delicate lips as the Wolf King claimed her for his own. She kissed his knot as it burrowed into Tenebra's elegant body, and opened her mouth for the torrent of divine seed that spilled forth when he finally uncoupled from her once more.

Neither Winoa nor Tenebra marked the passing of time. Sustained by the magic of the glade, each had little thought to count anything other than their partners and their climaxes, both of which eventually blended into a seemingly endless haze of wanton, pleasure-drunk gluttony. They played with one another as much as they did the Forest King and his pack, their lips dancing as they were fucked from either end, slender fingers caressing sticky thighs and tingling breasts. But eventually the sky grew dark and the first stars blinked into life above them, and the two women began to slow and tire.

Winoa felt it as a deep ache in her sex, not quite enough to drown out the haze of ecstasy which still flowed through her whenever another beast tied its body to hers. Then a persistent queasiness in her gut and a growing litany of cramps which turned her limbs to jelly. Tenebra, too, seemed to have reached her limit; though she lay on her side, cleaning the Forest King's throbbing organ with her tongue while another wolf nuzzled into her sex, when it tried to mount her she grunted something and pushed it away with her foot.

So too were the wolves drifting away. They were intelligent beasts, after all, and knew they had duties of their own to attend to. One by one they slunk off into the trees, their haunting, too-clever eyes visible briefly before fading out of sight. Winoa whimpered under as the final beast lodged in her over-stimulated, stinging lips withdrew, wracking her with one last sickly climax. Eventually only the two women and the Forest King remained, slouched together in a lazy tangle at the foot of the altar, utterly exhausted and aching with pain and pleasure alike.

"Winoa," Tenebra murmured. Her voice was heavy with exhaustion, barely more than a whisper, but it shone with contentment. At some point her crown of flowers had found its way onto the Forest King's head, where it drooped wearily from his ear. "Come. It's time we were away."

"We have to leave? I don't - " Winoa swallowed, raising her head from where she had lain it across the great spirit's flank. "I want to stay here forever..."

Despite her weak protests, she felt herself being eased upright. Her head was spinning - the world was spinning - and the idea of leaving the glade and returning to the cold mundanity of the outside world almost broke the winebearer's heart. Both women were in a ruinous state - their bodies slick with sweat and seed, their hair ragged and filthy, marked with scratches and cuts from their partners exertions. They moved slowly towards the treeline, leaning on one another for support

"Don't want to - why can't we stay?" She said, stumbling weakly. The trees opened up, roots slithering back to allow them egress. Behind them came the Forest King, his ears flat and tail dragging in exhaustion.

Tenebra sighed. "This is the second lesson, Winoa," she said, closing her eyes for a moment. "A pleasure one cannot turn away from becomes a prison. And then it ceases to be a pleasure at all."

Winoa wasn't sure what she felt about that. She wasn't sure what she felt about everything. Her thoughts were a hazy soup that refused to fall into order, slipping through her fingers like sand whenever she tried to focus on one particular thing over the rest. The three traipsed through the forest in silence until they returned to the cart, where Greyscale lay with his feet propped up on the headboard, snoring merrily. The Forest King barked sharply, stirring the scarred old Kobold from his rest.

"Don't take that tone with me, hairy," he grumbled, rubbing his eyes and glaring down at the spirit. "I used to be a king myself, you know." He glanced over at the two women and smirked. "Two of you have fun?"

"It was exquisite, dear one," Tenebra replied, absent-mindedly rearranging her lank hair as she clambered up into the back. Winoa took her offered hand and clambered up after her, followed by the Forest King, who curled up opposite them and settled down to sleep. "Winoa performed beautifully, though I rather suspect we shall both need some time in the baths to recover upon our return."

Greyscale chuckled something and turned away, jerking the reins and directing the cart slowly back the way it had come. Distantly Winoa marvelled at how blandly the Kobold had reacted to their return, as if he was long used to his own, private debaucheries, but the thought slipped from her like all the rest. She settled down against Tenebra's shoulder and drifted off into sleep before the cart had even found its way back to the road.

---

Nothing changed in the following weeks. Winoa was granted a few days of rest before returning to her duties. She served food for Bleakstone Castle's many hungry mouths and poured drinks for the steady flow of petitioners who came to beg Tenebra for favours. Once the last of her aches and pains faded, she made a little coin entertaining her regulars amongst the guards. Life went on as it had before.

And yet, everything had changed. In small ways, to be sure, but unmistakeable ones. When she brought the queen refreshments, the dark lady caught Winoa's eye and favoured her with a small, knowing smile. When she complained of difficulties being suffered by the other servants, they were quickly and neatly resolved instead of being brushed aside. Someone even seemed to have had a word with old Grukk, who still shot her poisonous looks in the corridors but kept his warty lips closed until she was out of earshot.

Winoa was still a servant, and she knew she likely always would be. But there were degrees of servitude, and people were listening to her now. They knew her name and her face. She had earned Tenebra's favour, and more importantly, been granted her first insight into something very nearly sacred. With that, there was no limit to how far she might go.

So when the dark lady called her to her chambers, raised one delicate black eyebrow, and asked if she could assist her in bargaining with a group of saurians who were proving remarkably stubborn negotiators, what else was there to say but;

"Yes."