The Wolven Manor Ch. 01

Then why this odd feeling of unease? She couldn't tell. Her head simply refused to get any clearer, as if a thick fog had settled into her mind, dulling senses and muddying thoughts. Her eyes rushed to the covered window, and she heard it again. That same fleeting whisper, like the voice of an old friend, singing just at the edge of her perception. Incoherent words brashly invaded her psyche, and a new feeling washed over her, a desire to answer that call and join in the singing. No, not a mere desire. An undeniable need.

Sluggishly sitting up, the girl brushed a stray golden strand out of her face and lowered her feet onto the timber floor. Acting on pure instinct now, Anabelle pushed herself up from the bed and staggered over to the window. Her legs felt numb and weak, and each step she took was heavier than the last, but she kept moving forward, until she reached the velvet curtains. With trembling fingers, she gripped the heavy fabric and drew the them open, allowing the bright moonlight to pour inside unhindered.

And this is when the fair lamb saw the black wolf. The perfect specimen, the embodiment of masculinity, and the epitome of ardour standing tall and proud on the other side of the pane and watching the maiden with lucid eyes. Dark fur, still damp from the rain, outlined every powerful muscle of his torso, along with the sleek curves of his strong legs and arms. Anabelle could not turn her eyes away, even though she knew it was wrong. She should have been scared, but she wasn't. A strange sensation had taken over her mind, one far different from any other she had ever experienced.

There was no mistake. It was a dream. She must have never woken up from last night's slumber, and her tired mind had conjured up this handsome stranger. Indeed, he was possibly the most gorgeous being she had seen. Never before in her life had the girl witnessed such perfection, such awe-inspiring, breathtaking magnificence. A part of her screamed that Anabelle should have been terrified of such an imposing beast, yet the other part of her nature kept insisting that there was no need to fear. Her eyes travelled from the tips of the visitor's canine ears all the way down to the bulging muscles of his thighs. His stance emanated dominance.

So, this was her perfect man? He, who was neither a beast nor a man, represented what the innocent lady truly wanted in a partner? It came as a surprise to the youngster, to say the least. She had always believed that one day she would fall in love with a kind, young nobleman who would treat her well, and she would have a happy life by his side, until the day they both passed away in each other's loving embrace. However, she would be lying to herself if she tried to deny that this creature stirred up feelings within her.

A bizarre, utmost unreasonable thought flickered in Anabelle's head. What would happen if she opened the window for the wolfman? After all, he had been invoked by her dormant true self, the part of her soul that knew what she actually wanted. Not a prince in shining armour to carry her like a bride and treat like fragile glass, but a savage beast that would claim her, feed on her, and violate her in every possible way. She wanted his strong hands on her frail body, his coarse fur rubbing against her tender skin, and his teeth sinking into her delicate neck while he pinned her down and took her. Those were not the desires befitting of a proper woman of nobility. Her mother would never harbour similar thoughts, let alone act upon them. But then again, it was just a dream, so why should Anabelle be confined by the same restrictions that bound her waking self? Maybe, for this one night, she could let herself give in to her darkest urges without remorse.

With her mind still clouded by an otherworldly miasma, the girl reached out towards the latch. Her hands were shaking, but not out of fear, for her whole body was quivering with excitement and anticipation for what was to come. Soon, the latch came undone, and the window got suddenly pushed open by the crisp night breeze. Anabelle didn't have to wait long before the large furry shape casually hoisted itself through the opening, all the while maintaining eye contact with the one who called him here.

The beast towered over the girl whose eyes were fixated upon him in both horror and fascination. Now that he was inside, he looked even bigger than she used to think he was, his hulking mass casting a shadow over the noble maiden. Cautiously, she reached out to touch him, perchance to make certain the wolfman definitely existed. Her fingers grazed the black coat that covered his sturdy body, and she felt the intense warmth emanating from his mighty form. Unless her touch betrayed her, he existed and stood there, like an idol to a pagan god from the bygone ages of tribal superstition.

The blonde's heart was racing like a thoroughbred hound in pursuit, and she sensed a primal urge welling up from deep within. His smell was intoxicating, but in a good way. He reeked of the primordial masculinity and savagery that she had never tasted before, and she found this scent unexpectedly alluring. The beast's lupine maw twisted into a knowing snarl, exposing his enormous teeth that could easily tear her apart. At that moment, she genuinely wanted him to do it. The longing to have his fangs, his anything, sink into her was overwhelming. But, fortunately for the spellbound girl, he had another thirst to quench.

Something hot and slippery touched against the fabric of Anabelle's nightgown, right where her stomach was, startling her and compelling to look down. What the maiden saw made her eyes widen, for she saw the visitor's engorged appendage protruding from its furry sheath. The girl had a general idea of what the human penis looked like, despite never seeing one in person, but this was entirely different from the ones she had seen in illustrations and pictures in books. Not only was it considerably greater in both length and girth, but it was also undeniably a canine member, a swollen piece of bright red flesh garnished with thin veins over the shaft, along with a peculiar bulb at the base of the penis and a pointed tip at its apex. Albeit she couldn't see the creature's beasthood in its full glory and in detail, because of the darkness enveloping the bedchamber, Anabelle was enthralled by his phallus nevertheless, to the point that she ran her hand down his furred, ridiculously muscled abdomen and onto his throbbing erection.

This sensation of a pulsating male organ in her grasp was novel for the girl, but it felt strangely natural all the same. The feeling of warm blood circulating through his vessels, the sight of thick clear liquid dribbling from the tip, and the smell of the beast's manly musk inebriated her, saturated her with too much desire to handle, and before she realised, a pleasant heat began to rise in her most intimate of areas, as though her femininity had a mind of its own, and was aware of the presence of a potential mate. The petite blonde bit her lower lip in a vain attempt to smother this irresistible feeling, but the more Anabelle struggled with it, the stronger it grew. Her slender fingers glided from the glans to the knotted base and back, the friction of her strokes alleviated by a generous amount of natural lubricant that never stopped gushing from the tip and onto her digits, sullying them with its glutinous texture. These ministrations lasted for quite some time, and Anabelle presumed that she was getting the knack of it, until suddenly, the wolfman gave her a commanding growl, and she knew exactly what he wanted.

With her face blushing profusely, the noble girl eased down on her knees. What she intended to do wasn't something she had done before, but rather what she had overheard housemaids whisper about on several occasions, when they had assumed that nobody had been listening to their gossiping. Little sense had it made for Anabelle to do something as degrading to please a man, even if this man was your beloved lover, but now she could understand the appeal. A wondrous aroma lingering around the wolfman's crotch filled her nostrils, driving her to near insanity and infusing with a yearning to worship her paramour's pillar. The maiden took place between the beast's powerful legs and slowly wrapped her lips around the leaky tip of his member, giving it a sensual, smacking kiss. He twitched in response, a low roar reverberating through his body while her tongue lapped at his flesh. She savoured every last drop of his taste, licking and kissing the inflated shaft, relishing his mucus and leaving a sloppy trail of saliva along his length.

The wolfman grumbled impatiently and grabbed a handful of Anabelle's shimmering golden locks with his oversized clawed hand, pushing her head closer to his groin. Though not expecting such rough treatment, the young lady, the daughter of the unanimously revered nobles, offered no resistance, but instead parted her deliciously plump lips and accepted his canine member into her mouth, like a common girl would do with her neighbour's son in a small village, or perhaps with the neighbour himself. She choked and gagged when his veined flesh bumped into the back of her throat, but endured an instinctive reflex to immediately pull away in search of air, wishing to appease the beast.

A muffled squeal swelled up from the girl's larynx as the wolfman held her head in place, keeping his rigid beasthood lodged firmly down her throat for an uncomfortably long time. With tears streaming down her cheeks, she unconsciously squirmed and writhed in his grip, trying to free herself from this embarrassing predicament, but the more she struggled, the tighter the beast kept hold of her, asserting dominance over her, as if trying to convey that he was the one in charge now, and would be until the day his heart stopped beating. Anabelle felt so helpless and vulnerable at that moment, at the mercy of this brute, and she loved every moment of it. She absolutely adored being used and abused, as long as it was him who mistreated her. The maiden no longer felt like Anabelle, but rather like a filthy, dirty animal whose sole purpose was to serve its master in any way he saw fit. Though looking and feeling incredibly real, everything was merely a fantasy, so before morning came and maids woke her up from this dream, the blonde was determined to enjoy every last second of such a lovely nightmare.

When the wolfman made certain that his mate had finally accepted her position and surrendered to his carnal needs, he released her hair, allowing the subtly smiling female to catch her breath, ropes of slobber and precum dripping obscenely from her rosy lips and onto her heaving chest. After a moment of hushed recuperation, Anabelle raised her eyes, only to sight the beast's erection twitching expectantly, yearning for the wet embrace of her mouth, and without so much as a hint of hesitation, she granted it that wish. Starting with kisses across the creature's sensitive flesh, she lavished him with affection, licking, slurping, and sucking on his member, not leaving an inch of his length untouched by her lips and tongue.

As the wolfman grew harder in anticipation, the lady's ministrations gradually became more intense. Her lips wrapped around his maleness tighter, her tongue swirled faster and more aggressively, and her hands slithered up and down his greasy shaft ever so fervently. The beast grunted with pleasure as she handled him with care, obviously revelling in the knowledge that her servitude was giving him such delight. Seeking to please her illicit lover in an even more perverse manner, Anabelle found his heavy, painfully full testes with her obsequious mouth and, with her face buried in the coarse fur of his scrotum, began to suckle on them with so much passion and greed that she risked to choke on her own saliva.

The girl was slowly losing herself to lust, the beast's powerful scent and masculine aura overwhelming her senses. With every mouthful of bestial secretions swallowed, her mind grew more muddled, her thoughts became increasingly less coherent. Something primal, baser was taking control of her body, and she found herself losing control. Was it really her who stood on her knees and indulged in these depraved acts? Even for a dream, it was beyond surreal. The way she lapped at the wolfman's beasthood, how she sucked on his testicles and caressed his perfect muscles while she moaned and shamefully whimpered in ecstasy. It gave her too much joy to even try to rationalize what she was doing. Some extrinsic force was making her do these things, but she was keen to succumb to its will, if only it would let her have him.

Then, with a buckle of his hips, the wolfman clutched the back of the blonde's head with his mighty hands and pushed his pelvis forward, sending his pulsating member down her gullet. Anabelle was too far gone to resist this, and since she had no wish to do so anyway, she took as much of him as she physically could without a single sign of protest, allowing her throat to get violated in the most bestial fashion. With each thrust into the girl's mouth, the beast was getting closer to the release he craved, and with one final push, the bulb of his knot swelled larger before the aristocrat's glazed eyes, betokening his immanent orgasm, and a torrent of scorching semen erupted into the back of her throat, the thick, creamy and heady liquid poured inside her stomach, burning all the way down. As much as she wanted to swallow all of his precious seed, some of it still leaked from the corners of her mouth, and fell from her chin into the pool of her own wetness, which she never knew had formed on the floor beneath her kneeling figure.

With a vulgar popping sound, the canine penis left Anabelle's tired mouth, a fat string of saliva mixed with semen stretched from her open lips and connected them to the tip of the wolfman's rigid member, which had no intentions of retracting back into its sheath yet. It was obvious that he was far from done with her, and the petite noble, who strayed further away from the image of a proper lady with every passing second that she spent in this lucid dream, was ready and eager for whatever would come next. Maintaining eye contact, she scrambled to her shaky feet and, tugging at the beast's smelly fur, took a few shy steps away from the open window, until the back of her knees met the edge of her canopy bed. Her eyes never leaving his, she slumped onto the mattress, the blue fabric of her nightgown hiking up past her midriff as she did. The smooth skin of her thighs and exposed belly was glistening with a sheen of sweat, like was the rest of her body. Still, this slight dampness could not compare to the streamlet of fragrant juices that soaked her cotton undergarments and stained the bedsheets with the undeniable proof of her arousal.

Anabelle's heart was beating fast, and her breathing was heavy and laboured. With her face flushed red, hair dishevelled and chest heaving, she looked like a heroine of an erotic novel before a forthcoming love scene. The wolfman obediently followed her onto the bed, his manly body pressed against hers, his clawed hands wandering under her nightgown and kneading her firm breasts. He was so close that his heat alone was enough to make her tremble. Unable to fight back, she let out a sensual moan and held at the bedding when the beast playfully nipped at her neck, leaving a bite mark there.

The wolfman's fingers were everywhere on her body, his claws scratching at her skin, leaving fine bleeding lines in their wake, and tickling at her flesh. His sharp canine teeth grazed along her shoulder, followed by a nibble on her earlobe. She closed her eyes and gasped as his wide tongue traced along her craning neck. The young noble desperately wanted to make her lover feel just as good, but couldn't move a muscle. His sinewy arms and suffocating breath debilitated her. Anabelle's mind had gone blank, and her vision blurry. Everything around her seemed to be spinning, but she could sense the creature's presence nonetheless. His weight on top of her, his scent in her nostrils, his strong, almost crushing, grip on her hips, the pleasant moisture behind her lips. The girl was so lost in blissful haze that she barely noticed how or when she had accepted her dream visitor's tongue into her panting mouth.

What they were partaking in could not resemble a kiss any less, for while Anabelle had a normal face, her mate had an elongated snout full of sharp teeth, yet she clung to this muscle like her life depended on it. She sucked on his mucous tongue hanging from the terrible maw, savouring its taste and swallowing every droplet of slobber that dripped into her welcoming mouth from above. The sensations from this perverted semblance of a kiss differed severely from her first time. The young man who had kissed her at a ball two years ago was much gentler compared to this savage who violently pushed his slime through her lips while squeezing her buttocks to the point of blunt pain, ensuring her complete submission, which she happily validated.

Her head was spinning, like from too much alcohol carelessly drank at a party, yet she didn't feel drunk at all, at least not in the usual sense of this word. She probably was, but simply not on wine or champagne. Anabelle must have been drunk on the wolfman's taste, his smell and rough touch. She must have been drunk on feeling wanted by someone, an emotion completely unknown to the girl, and on the animalistic lust that emanated from his core, a desire as ancient as time itself and strong enough to make her ignore everything else, including herself. She realised all of it instantly as soon as the beast broke the kiss, leaving her breathless and disgracefully begging for more with incoherent, but unmistakably pleading mewls.

With a toothy grin, the predator licked the blonde across her entire face with a broad swipe of his long, slimy tongue, before travelling down, to her perky, youthful bosom, while making certain to spend enough time on her open neck and shoulders beforehand, relishing every little squirm, twitch and moan he elicited from his submissive prey. Every brush of his meaty tongue against her hardened nipples was another wave of disgrace and debasement, but also of shameless enjoyment. However, little did Anabelle know about what true pleasure was like, not until she felt hot breath tickling the insides of her thighs when the shaggy creature steadily crept towards the most sacred part of her body, treasure hidden from the world behind a thin layer of cotton which was hopelessly drenched in her pure nectar. She wanted to scream for him to stop, to point out how dirty she was down there, but, drowned as she was in the deep ocean of delectable dizziness and confusion, the aristocrat couldn't deliver anything but inviting moans.

The wolfman couldn't care less about trying to strip the girl of her treacherous undergarments, so, with a deft flick of claws, he sliced them open, exposing her gleaming petals to the cool air of her bedchamber. The sweet scent of virgin love juices combined with female sweat permeated the area around them, filling the lupine monster's lungs to the brim with each breath, driving him into a frenzy. Impatiently, he hoisted his mate's legs further up and apart in the air, holding them by the ankles. Anabelle was too embarrassed to even attempt to imagine how indecent she looked at that moment, her legs spread and raised up high, for not only her lady parts were exposed, but also the winking rim of her backside was left uncovered and at the mercy of her ravager, who was seemingly infatuated with her coy demeanour. Licking his chops and salivating like a hungry mutt, the beast buried his snout between her legs, inhaling the fresh fragrance of her maidenhood and giving it a taste.