Wicked Tales: Little Red's Wolf

Athelyna released the remaining hooks that kept her cloak wrapped securely around her. She felt her legs melt as Wolfe began to knead the flesh. Her young, untouched body seemed to burn with each caress he delivered upon her skin. She licked her lips and then found herself wrapping her arms around his neck. "Wolfe, I feel so warm . . . so hot."

He smiled against her neck and reached up to unhook her arms. "Then we should remedy that." He pushed the cloak from her tiny form and gazed at the perky tits that rose up with each draw of breath she took into her lungs. The red material that had kept her hidden from man's lecherous eyes fell away. His hand moved to the waistband of her skirt, where her blouse had been tucked in. There was no gentleness as he pulled the fabric from its home and tugged it over her head. His mouth captured one of her nipples and Athelyna dug her fingers into his shoulders.

"Ohhh . . ." Air from her lungs gushed out, only to be dragged back in as he began to suckle from her breast. Her hands could not remain still as they slipped into his hair, pulled him deeper into her tit and then slid down to arms to hold tight to his thick frame. "Wolfe," she gasped and stared down at her nipple clenched between his sharp teeth. Her eyes locked with his and for a split second she saw the creature in her nightmares. She shook her head and closed her eyes, reopening them to find his mouth moving to engulf her other pink-hued pearl.

His tongue lapped at bead that he held poised for his devouring. He swept the wet muscle back and forth as his fingers moved to her skirt, which he had worked up to her hips. Slowly he dragged his palm up and down her leg, exploring the texture and the way it flexed under his touch. He licked his way from her tit to the center of her chest, where he glanced up and took in her passion-filled features. "You are beautiful."

Athelyna's eyes fluttered as she heard his words of adoration. She shifted in her seat as he moved to his knees and pulled her hips forward. "Wolfe . . . what are . . ." Her words died as she felt his hands tear away the cloth that covered her womanhood. There was no time for her to respond. His mouth captured her engorged lips and she felt herself slide back against the table. Her hands gathered up her skirt, lifting it higher, so Wolfe's maneuvers were not hindered in any way. She clenched the fabric in her fists, her nails threatening to tear into the soft cloth as his tongue began to sweep up and down the slick sides of her pussy's folds.

"Delicious." His words poured over her flesh and his breath blanketed her sex. Wolfe pushed the tip of his tongue up to her clit and rolled the strip of flesh back and forth, making Athelyna's hips buck against him. He spread her thighs wider apart and brushed his face against her perfumed home. He pressed deeper into her, sweeping his tongue down to toy with the opening of her pussy.

"Ohhh . . .oh Wolfe . . . I'm dying!"

Her words made him chuckle and the vibration of his laughter carried itself over her scorching flesh. "No my sweet dish . . .not yet." He went back to work, forcing her tight virgin hole to accept one of his thick fingers. He pushed into her sweet opening, then screwed his finger to the right, letting his nail catch her fleshy side and then he pivoted it back to the left and scrapped it too with a tender caress. He felt her body tighten and his teeth began a journey of its own, exploring the shape, texture, and taste of the clit his tongue had bathed earlier.

Another finger entered her pussy and another gasp of unexpected delight filled the room. "Wolfe!" Her cry told him she was close and his own need was forcing his cock to ache with a demand that he knew he would have to answer. With the speed and strength that no mere man could possess Wolfe ripped his slacks from his person, leaving his cock jutting out and begging to be hidden once more, but this time in the depths of the succulent pussy that was wrapped tight around his invading fingers.

Wolfe dragged his hand from her sex and pulled her hips forward to the very edge of the table. "Athelyna!"

She opened her eyes and through a haze of glory, unlike anything she had ever felt before, she watched Wolfe's cock thrust into her moist sex. The pain of his invasion was quick and she cried out from the shock of his possessing of her. He stifled her remaining whimpers with his mouth, coaxing her tongue to dance with his. As she relaxed her mind and body, Athelyna began to feel a warmth radiating from their joined passions and she shifted against his cock. Wolfe muttered a low curse and Athelyna laughed softly as she repeated her earlier action and was rewarded with a hard thrust of his own.

"Still, my beautiful flower, or I will hurt you."

"No I want to feel all of you . . . all of this," she whispered and licked his lips before leaning back and offering her breasts to his hungry mouth.

Wolfe kept one hand on her hip, the other moved to grope her tit. He squeezed it, mashing it into her chest and then he held it tight as his mouth descended in the pebble that beckoned him. His hips began to pull back, his cock following. He slammed back in, giving Athelyna the full dick she had demanded from him. Her body reacted on instinct, clutching his rod as he pulled free and then swallowing him up as he sunk back in. Over and over he delivered her, thrust after thrust. Wolfe worshiped first one nipple, then the other. He pulled, sucked, and tore at her flesh, lavishing it with a hungry lick or drawing out her pleasure with hard bites.

"Ohhh Wolfe . . . Something . . .ohh God, please . . .it. . ."

He heard her try to comprehend what her body was feeling and that only drove him closer to the edge. "Don't be scared," he told her as he felt her body suddenly go stiff and his own muscles clench tight as his balls shot their cream into her womb and coated her with the slick satin of milk that her pussy hungered for. He felt her own juices explode from her sex and the different temperatures mixed together. His seemed to boil from his hard shaft, while hers seemed to be the balm his cock needed to ease his suffering.

Athelyna's eyes rolled to the back of their sockets and her fingers dug into her lover's hair. Tears fell from her eyes as her pussy convulsed around Wolfe's dick. A whimper escaped her as she fought for the words to describe what was happening to her. Sheets of red silk seemed to flow down over her clenched lids. Flames of orange and crimson fire consumed her as she felt another shimmering wave of fluids slip from her inner core and cover Wolfe.

Slowly she felt him ease his weight from her and she opened her eyes. Little sparks danced in front of her and when she felt his kisses against her neck, she softly purred and turned to capture his mouth with hers. Wolfe felt his cock slip from her pussy and the cool air of the room touched his wet shaft. A shiver ran through his spine and he knew she would feel the same if he did not cover her. With a gentle hand he swept her skirts down and then pulled himself from her tasty lips.

"We should go," he told her, picking her blouse up and helping her to dress. "You must promise me something Athelyna."

She noticed the difference in his voice and she paused in the smoothing of her skirt. "Anything."

"Never stray from the path at night. Swear this to me. I can not protect you from the dark." His hands were in her hair, holding her scalp tightly as he stared into her blue orbs. "Promise me."

Athelyna shook her head as best she could. His hold on her firm and frightening. "I promise."

He closed his eyes and kissed her forehead. "Thank you." She shook her head yes and the watched as he stepped back and picked up what little remained of his torn pants. Athelyna blushed as Wolfe caught her staring at his manhood and when he touched her breast the heat of his palm burned through the material, searing her skin. "Button your cloak. Now I know why you were told to keep this on. You would have been devoured years ago if you hadn't." Wolfe spoke the truth. Had he seen the woman before him developing into the ripe, lush lover he had just taken, she would have been his long before now.

Athelyna slid from the table and pulled on her red cape and began to secure the fasteners. Wolfe left the kitchen and as she was about to tie the hood's ribbon she noticed he had already returned and had donned another pair of slacks, similar to the ones he'd been wearing, but the coloring darker.

They walked together to the meadow and side by side they chose flowers for her grandmother. He took his time with her as he led her through the forest and eventually back to the path. "Will I see you tomorrow?" she asked, her face full of hope and desire.

Wolfe reached out and stroked her cheeks. "Yes. I will be here tomorrow and the next day and the day after that. But remember your promise. Do not take the path at night."

Athelyna smiled. "I will remember." She stepped up on her tiptoes and kissed him. When she left his side she was aimed in the direction of her grandmother's home, but she never remembered getting there.

"Come in girl," a weak voice called out. Athelyna entered the little cottage and smiled at her grandmother. She lifted the cloth and began to set the bread and the pie on the table. "You are late."

Athelyna gnawed gently on her lower lip and then remembered the flowers. She reached into the basket and produced them with a flourish. "I was picking these for you." Her grin was wide as she remembered with whom she had picked the flowers with. Her thoughts were interrupted by her grandmother's shriek of anger as the lilies were ripped from her hand.

"You left the path " The accusation made Athelyna's ears ring. The lilies were flung to the floor, far away from Athelyna and her grandmother.

"Grandmother." Athelyna stepped back. "I wasn't gone for long," she lied. "I picked the flowers, then got back on the path. There was no harm done. I am fine. Please calm yourself."

She watched Beatrix's blue eyes glare back at her and her white hair seemed to look more haggard than usual. "Grandmother, please . . . I am sorry I have angered you. I won't stray again." Even as Athelyna said the words she knew she had just told her grandmother another lie.

"Did you keep your cloak on?" The question caught Athelyna off guard. She shook her head yes, but refused to voice a third lie in less than a minute.

"Good." Beatrix walked over to her granddaughter and took her by the shoulders. "You must stay on the path, child. Wear the cloak when you travel."

"Why grandmother?" Athelyna finally asked the question that had plagued her since she was old enough to walk by herself. "Why is it the same cloak? Every year it is the same color, the same shape, even the fur of the fox looks the same. Why? I don't understand."

Beatrix sighed and took her granddaughter's hand in hers. She led her to the room where she often told the stories of her youth, stories that only young children believed. Yet, as those children grew their parents told them the stories were just fairy tales made to make boys and girls fear the unknown. Beatrix took a seat in the well used rocker that her husband had made her years before his death. She smoothed her hands over the worn arms and motioned for Athelyna to sit at her feet.

"Many years before you or I had even been thought of, this land was rich with wealth. There were Kings and Queens, Lords and Ladies and there was peace. But all good things come to an end and so began a war between a group of settlers that hunted at night. They came in packs, ravishing the women, tearing the hearts from men and devouring their flesh. Warriors from every nation banded together to drive out the demons that possessed the night and eventually, over time, their numbers grew weaker and they fled. Everything and everyone returned to a peaceful life and the horror of the forest was over as quickly as it had begun."

Athelyna wanted to ask about Wolfe's castle, but knew she could not or her grandmother would know she had not been alone that morning. "There were rumors about a few demons still living in the woods. It was believed they had a cave somewhere in the deepest parts of the forest. A path was laid and a local healer who several believed knew the art of Witchcraft was called forth to offer protection to those that walked the path. She agreed to do as was requested of her, but knew that her pagan gods would frown on her if she gave the mortals everything they desired. So she placed a spell on the path. Whoever walked it during the day was safe. If one dared walk it after dark than they took their own lives in their hands."

Beatrix side and looked over to where a can worn pair of boots rested in a corner. "I went into labor with your mother. It was painful. Blood pooled at my feet and your grandfather and I both knew we could not deliver our child alone. He left that night and in the morning when one of the village women came to my door I was almost dead. Your mother had been born during the night. I remember screaming as she fell from my womb and landed on the thick blankets piled under me. I held her until someone took her from my arms."

Athelyna could picture the story as her grandmother wove it with her soft voice and her descriptive words. She could picture a scared and frightened girl, barely older than herself, holding her child as she lay dying in a pile of bloody blankets and sweaty clothing. "Mother never shared this story."

"I never told her. She always stayed on the path," Beatrix muttered. "Your grandfather's body was found two days later. His throat ripped open. His chest torn into pieces. His heart missing." A tear fell down her worn features. "I knew what had happened. I knew the demons of the woods had hungered for so long that as soon as someone ventured onto the path they attacked. It is like keeping a wild dog locked in a cage. You only feed him scraps, never giving him enough to satisfy his hunger. The demons are like dogs. You've seen one of them . . ." Beatrix saw realization in Athelyna's eyes. "Yes, it was real. It was a wolfman that took your father's life. They still hunt at night, because the animals of the forest are like scraps; they are not what drives away the hunger of the demon."

Athelyna's head suddenly began to pound as she recalled the scream that leapt from her throat. She tasted the fear she had experienced eleven years ago when she watched her father's body being lifted into the air and his life's blood spill from his back and throat. A pair of yellow-green eyes glowed back at her as a snarling snout opened wide to consume her father. "The cloak, grandmother . . . why the cloak?" She needed to know what the cloak meant. Fear snaked through her as she tried to deny what her mind was telling her.

"The cloak keeps you hidden from them. After your mother stopped believing the stories, I knew I would have to protect you myself. I found a wise woman, more ancient than I and she shared with me a spell to ward off the evil that lurks in the woods. Each cloak is dipped in this potion. It shields your scent. Masks it. No matter how hot a day it is, when you walk the forest you must always keep it closed tight. Each hook fastened. Each ribbon tied. If it smells your scent, just once it is said it will hunt you down and take your life, for the aroma of your blood is like a treat to its senses. The night your father left. You wore your cloak, didn't you girl? . . . I remember."

Athelyna nodded. "Yes. I wore it." As she rose though she remembered that the night her father died, her hood had fallen from her blond curls and she had pushed at the folds of her cloak when she scrambled to her feet. The yellow-green eyes had watched her that night, took in her hair, her fear and feasted on her scent. A shudder ran through her as she thought of her grandmother's story and tried to convince herself that it was just that . . . a story.

The daily visits to Athelyna's grandmother's house became ones that she longed for, as she refused to focus on the legend her grandmother had crafted. She would gather the goodies in her basket, making sure to include extra for her and Wolfe to enjoy in the meadow. Each morning she left earlier than the other and each afternoon she made it to her grandmother's even later than the afternoon before. It wasn't until she received news one morning from her mother that she would have to go to the cottage of her grandparent later than usual, because her mother was ill and needed Athelyna to stay home to manage the house.

Athelyna sulked most of the day, knowing that Wolfe would be waiting for her. Yet there was no way for her to reach him. She never ventured off the path without him and she knew she would become lost if she tried to find his home on her own. As dusk began to light the sky in hues of pink and purple a frown replaced the pout she'd worn all day. "Athelyna!" her mother called.

She hurried to her mother's room and helped her to the bathroom. "Have you gone to your grandmother's yet?"

"No mother. There hasn't been time."

"Go now, before it becomes too dark. She will be worried about you and then hurry home. No visiting and listening to her stories."

Athelyna sighed as she helped her mother reclaim her position on the bed. "Mother it will be dark when I start back. Surly I can wait till tomorrow."

Her mother made a face and then rolled her eyes. "Athelyna you are not still afraid of the woods. I told you there are no beasts of the forest. Your father left us. He abandoned us. He was not eaten by some wolfman."

Athelyna shuddered as her mother brought up her dreams. "I know . . . it is just . . . the dark mother. I cannot be on the path at night."

"Your grandmother will be worried. Now go and . . ."

"Stay on the path," Athelyna muttered. She left her mother alone, closing the door behind her. Her hood hung free and she only buttoned a few of her cloak's hooks. Her fingers curled around the basket and she quickly pushed bread and butter inside, covered it with a cloth and hurried from her home. The sun's final rays slipped behind the horizon and she knew Wolfe would be angry with her if he discovered she had ventured into the woods at night. The words of her mother and her all knowing grandmother fell heavily on her shoulders; she quickly ran toward the path that would take her into the heart of the woods.

Wolfe stared at the man wielding the axe. He had been watching him for some time, gauging his movements as well as his strength and weaknesses. As the sun slipped away he felt his bones grow and lengthen. His metamorphoses no longer affected him like it did when he was a young Lycan. Now, he knew how to prevent himself from crying out as he was forced to endure the rapid growth of another six inches in height and another dozen in girth. He waited for the stretching of his skin to end and the ache from the bulging muscles to ease. A shudder snaked up his spine and the thick, black fur that covered his body waved in the wind. Wolfstan had emerged and was ready to feast on the man who dared to enter into his territory.

Radulphus heard the crackling of the woods behind him and he stopped swinging his axe. He turned, eying the forest and trying to catch whatever animal had disturbed his work. He saw nothing and resumed chopping, using the last bit of light he could to finish his chore. It was rare for him to stay out so late and he knew the old woman would wonder why he had not been there to deliver her wood. He thought of his wife, home alone with their new babe, wrapped in a blanket the old woman had made. He stacked the wood into his cart and turned to pick up the shirt he'd discarded earlier.

It was at that moment that Radulphus felt the wind knocked out of him and a scream erupted from his lungs as pain ripped through his back. He spun around and held his axe high, then fell to his knees as he stared into the haunting yellow-green eyes of death. The snarling fangs seemed to glow in the dark and he saw his life flash before his eyes. Just as the creature began to swoop down on him it stopped and sniffed the air. Radulphus used the momentary distraction to his advantage and lashed out with his axe, slicing the black creature's upper thigh. A howl echoed through the forest and Wolfstan swiped the woodcutter with a clawed fist before he spun and crouched on four legs to leap into the woods, intent on finding the scent that drew his lust.