The Wolven Manor Ch. 01

Anabelle's mind blanked out for a moment, unable to handle the surge of energy flowing throughout her entire being. All discomfort and shamefulness she had felt before fell off her back like a shed skin, and all what remained was an unquenchable thirst for this beast, whose muzzle was incessantly nuzzling into her womanly furrow, and whose hot breath ghosted over the sensitive spot at the summit of her thighs. His tongue left not a single part of her forbidden fruit unexplored. Her nether lips, moist and squishy to touch, reacted to the insistent licking with twitches and spasms, as if begging for more attention. Her susceptive nub, already swollen and tingling from foreplay, became even more inflated upon contact with his viscous drivel. The wolfman's caressing soon had the maiden's hips gyrating and bucking madly against his snout as she whimpered with delight while her hands searched for anything to hold on to, eventually finding the fur behind his ears.

Something was coming. Something big and foreign for the young noble. She felt it build up inside her and disperse to all corners of her figure, and there was no containing it. The beast sensed that she was getting close, and redoubled his efforts at raking his tongue over her tender, aching button. Closer, ever so closer, and soon, for the first time in her life, Anabelle reached the point of no return.

It hit like an explosion, but instead of a forceful push, it was a sudden implosion, rocking her very core to its foundations. It was almost as though her soul had left her body and travelled through a divine plane of existence, maybe the Heavens themselves, where an eternal choir sang in perfect harmony and the light of a million stars shone down on her, and where the essence of life infused itself into her blood, mind and soul. Oblivious to what was happening to her earthly body, she remained in the state of inexpressible bliss as wave after wave of euphoria crashed over her, making her frail form jolt and shudder, as she screamed in delirious joy with a voice not fit for a young lady of her stature, for she had abandoned all pretences of grace and decorum. Anabelle's back arched in an elegant, beautiful curve, her toes curled and eyes rolled upwards as the fires of bliss incinerated her being. With tears streaming down her flushed cheeks and an idiotic grin plastered on her face, she gave out a gleeful squeal, the sound of which would have made her mother blush had she heard it, let alone saw her daughter like this, sharing a bed with a monster that only existed in books and folklore. No words could do justice to the sensations that flooded through her at that moment. She felt so good it was almost scary, and the girl didn't want this to ever end, but, like all pleasant things in the world, her journey to paradise was not meant to last forever.

When she ultimately came to her senses from the orgasmic stupor, Anabelle still continued to experience occasional muscle spasms, though these were but faint echoes of the convulsions that had seized her just moments ago. Her skin tingled all over, and she harboured the sentiment no young miss of noble birth in her position would dare to willingly admit out loud. She wanted more. She wanted more of that wonderful feeling. She wanted more of those orgasms. Even if in a dream, she wanted to reach out for those Heavens once more.

Her eyelids fluttered open, and she saw the wolfman sitting on his hind legs at the far edge of her bed, his monstrous snout wet, like someone had poured a bucketful of water on it. The sight of his stoic, borderline unsympathetic expression left her loins aching and her skin burning for more contact. She was determined to go on and further. For as long as her dream lasted, Anabelle wanted to get ravished, so she once again parted her slender legs and exposed the only real treasure her body had to offer. It was an invitation that no man would mistake for anything else. The creature's amber eyes glinted at the sight of her manicured fingers spreading the puffy nether lips, and with a low growl, he accepted the offer.

The mattress bounced under the beast's weight as he mounted her, his moist black fur tickling her skin as he did. He was ready to take the girl, who, in return, was resolute to let him claim her innocence. Despite their drastic size difference, his bulk on her smaller frame wasn't nearly as uncomfortable as she'd thought it would be. If anything, there was a weird feeling of safety that came with having him on top, pinning her down. The blonde could see the wolfman's mighty chest rising and falling above her as he puffed, his lungs working overtime to provide his massive body with the air it needed. Also, in this position Anabelle could easily reach her dainty hands down to his member and grab it gently, but firmly. The hot flesh throbbed against her fingers as she explored its ridges and veins. The engorged shaft was already greasy with natural secretions, but the noble girl took her time to make it even slicker with her own, womanly fluids that were overflowing from between her legs and forming a puddle of poignant wetness beneath her rear. Soon, his properly lubricated scarlet length slid smoothly in and out of her fist with a squelching sound.

She never expected the wolfman to coddle her. At least some part of him belonged to the world of beasts, so his love was meant to be rough and savage. Having decided that the time had come, the blonde angled the tip of his male organ towards her virgin flower, and mustered all the courage within herself to accept the inevitable. Her dominator needed not any further encouragement. Slower than expected, but without a promise of stopping halfway through, his glans progressively pushed into her slippery orifice, stretching her insides as they were forced to accommodate the girth of the first invader who dared to enter the girl's sanctum. Anabelle knew impeccably well how big the beast was, for she had already pleasured him with her hands and mouth, but this knowledge could hardly prepare her for the actual penetration. As the shaft kept relentlessly advancing further inside her depths, the poor aristocrat thought to herself that she might not survive this ordeal. The pain was so intense that she wanted to scream her lungs out, but somehow, she managed to stifle the cries. She bit her lip so hard that she drew blood, but her suffering only seemed to get worse as the penetration continued. She felt pressure build up inside her, only to disappear almost momentarily once the elastic wall, the symbol of purity, was ruthlessly torn asunder, making her a woman in the most brutal and absolute of ways.

In this dream she was having, while sleeping in her bed with the help of her mother's marvellous tea, she was no longer a girl. In this dream, where the night was young, the newly born woman let herself believe that she was not dreaming, and bask in the illusion.

With a grunt, the beast withdrew his member from her pleated depths, instigating a sharp gasp when she felt the shape of his manliness leave her violated womanhood. This respite, however, was short-lived, and the gasp turned into a long moan after he pushed himself inside her again, meeting little to no resistance. Though the dull pain persisted, Anabelle quickly realised that it was but one of countless feelings that ran through her while her lover thrust into her with wild abandon. There was pain, but also an unusual sense of fulfilment, a comforting warmth, a feeling of connection, a drive for more, a burning passion that defied words and, bypassing her mind, spoke directly to her soul. There was something shameless about the way her hips deliriously, albeit comically, due to her inexperience, tried to meet his thrusts, searching for his thickness. There was also a tinge of worry that they might get caught by the maids who slept on the same floor and could be startled awake by the noises they couldn't help but make. But these conflicting feelings culminated in an undeniable thrill that reverberated through her. The same thrill made the young woman cling to the beast's body, her legs tightening around his busy furry hips, disregarding the discomfort in her tender folds.

As the wolfman held his mate in an overbearing, possessive grasp and dishonoured her in a way no proper suitor would, his claws, sharper and deadlier than any knife known to men, cut into her milky skin, leaving new bleeding scratches all over her thighs and buttocks, and opening up the barely closed ones anew. Her blood trickled down her legs like crimson tears, soiling the bedsheets, staining them red, as if in a mockery of a wedding night, but she refused to pay them any heed, too enraptured by the mounting tension welling up within her loins and the delightfully sinful sensation of being used as nothing more than a bitch in heat, a vessel for this almighty creature to plant his seed into. Beads of abundantly flowing sweat ran over the cuts on the blonde's body, stinging and irritating as they went, but such minor inconvenience only added new flavours to an already rich and delectable experience of their shared carnality.

Time lost any meaning during their debauched breeding, and in her mind, Anabelle spent a lifetime in that bed, under the beast's merciless claws and animalistic thrusts, submitting to him, willingly and eagerly, as he defiled and claimed her once and forever as his. And in truth, she really was his now. Her body, ravaged and changed by his touch, would forever carry a reminder of this moment, when she was deflowered and transformed from a decent lady into a lowly concubine, enslaved to the whims of her bestial master. Her scent would also linger on his black fur, proclaiming to his kin that this particular female belonged to him and him alone, and any other male bold enough to touch her would instantly feel the wrath of his fangs and claws. For how long their fornication lasted, the young woman did not know. It could have been mere minutes or solid hours at this point. For all she knew, the morning sun might have already begun to ascend into the sky, but neither the hunter nor his prey cared, for they had each lost themselves in the other, in the pleasures of the flesh and the throes of passion.

Anabelle's bedchamber was filled with sounds of sex, creaking of her bed, and immodest moaning, which grew louder each time the beast's knot smacked against the petals of her forever tainted flower, swollen and nagging from the endless slapping they endured. It wasn't until now that she noticed how awfully it wanted to get inside her feminine parts and lock the pair of them together until the virile lupine seed filled her womb with the promise of their common offspring. This sudden realisation that the wolfman, during all this time, had been holding back from forcing his entire length and girth into her tight passage brought tears of adoration to the woman's green eyes. It was the kind of care one wouldn't expect from a dreaded creature who came straight from the pages of a horror novel. The unexpected kindness melted her heart, and she sought to return the favour, even if it meant that she would have to suffer through immense pain in the process.

"D-Don't hold back... I want to feel a-all of you inside..!"

Anabelle failed to find a means to convey her wish in any other manner, so she resorted to a tongue that she didn't expect her lover to understand, but, much to the woman's surprise, the beast seemed to have grasped the meaning behind her human words. His growls had gone feverish, and the carefully guarded control he had shown thus far was beginning to falter. With each rabid drive of his hips, the lump of stout flesh, abetted by their mutual wetness, inched a little further past her nether lips, spreading them beyond their innate bounds. Every motion of the beast's body brought the youngster closer to another climax. All she needed was one final push to send her tumbling over that sweet edge, but Anabelle didn't want to be selfish. She wanted to share the release with her lover, her mate and master, and for that, she was willing to delay her own gratification for as long as possible.

As if reading her mind, the wolfman suddenly tightened his grip on her waist and shoved the entirety of his beasthood into her frailty, impelling his bloated knot past the delicate entrance. The physical pain from this act was unparalleled to any pain she had gone through in her life. Her deflowering paled in comparison to a huge bulb of burning, palpitating flesh unapologetically invading her, filling her so much with its size that her inner pleats strained to adapt without tearing. When the tip of the canine penis kissed her cervix and the beast's furry pelvis pressed against her pubic mound, she realised that she had managed to accept all of him, not just his shaft, but the whole thing.

Anabelle knew little about what knotting meant for the canine breed, but it wasn't long before she found out. With the bulge successfully lodged in place, the wolfman howled victoriously and released a surge of profuse, viscid batter into her awaiting womb. Blistering liquid fire spilled inside her, searing her churned insides like a violent inferno, melting her core, and painting her world white. He came inside her, his body convulsing and each throb sending ropes of his boiling essence into her. This was the straw that broke the camel's back. With a scream muffled by the beast's furred chest, her mind exploded in a bleached fury as the ripples of orgasmic spasms overtook her. Pleasure flowed through her every vein, artery, and capillary, blasted every fibre of her being, and sweltered like a supernova. While her first orgasm was immense, this one was crushing, obliterating everything in its wake. She could lose her mind from the sheer intensity of this sensation, but she clung onto her sanity by the thinnest of threads. In time, as unexpectedly as it had begun, her climax subsided. Waves of exaltation receded, leaving the young noble drained and exhausted, every limb as heavy as lead and thus difficult to move. Still trapped under the lupine's weight, her body continued to convulse sporadically from the lingering pulses of undulated ecstasy. Her stomach remained ablaze from the semen which refused to leave her, held inside by the inflated bulb of his knot.

Panting and shaking, Anabelle was enjoying the afterglow of her shattering release. Her wolfish mate kept her caught between his pleasantly warm chest and her canopy bed, the sheets under the two of them all sticky and moist with their united bodily secretions. She could hardly move, her whole figure feeling sore, but she couldn't hide a sheepish smile spreading over her lips as she cuddled underneath her lover, whose heartbeat slowly settled from impossibly rapid to abnormally fast. Her hands limply caressed and stroked the fur that covered his chest, tracing the contours of his firm muscles. He was a monster, and yet, he was everything she had ever wanted. No wonder her distraught mind had summoned someone like him. Big, strong, powerful, and fierce, he was everything a man should be. Someone who would dominate her, but also protect her. Someone who would hold her down, take and use her until she was spent. Someone who would treat her like the helpless prey she was, but at the same time cherish her company.

Once the knot had shrunk enough to slip free, it easily flopped out of her gaping orifice with a lewd plop. With the passage now open, both virginal blood and semen alike instantly gushed out of her thoroughly used sex. Begrudgingly, the wolfman shifted his weight off her sprawled body, which didn't react to it and remained in the same supine position. Anabelle didn't have the energy to clean up, or even close her legs, leaving her abused womanhood to shine in the moonlight, messy and obscene. Her entire body was one big ache, with her womanly parts feeling especially painful, so she wanted nothing more than to fall asleep and let them heal. If she wasn't sleeping already, that it.

Mayhap, it was about time to wake up. Now that Anabelle had experienced the most wonderful dream in her life, she had to face a new day, stranded as always in her good old family manor. She should definitely ask her mother to make her another cup of that herbal tea. After all, she did sleep like a log, and meeting the wolflike creature was certainly a lovely added benefit. Her dreams had never been so vivid, so real, so tangible. Did her mother know about potential side effects when she made her the tea? No, probably not. Should Anabelle tell her about it? No, not unless she found herself in a mood for an awkward conversation. She would much rather keep this dirty little secret to herself.

With these thoughts in mind, Anabelle closed her eyes and, guided by the familiar quiet whispering from before, plunged into the black emptiness, only to be woken up in the morning by a terrified scream.