The saucy nymph was stroking his back, her plump little hand wandering dangerously close to the lump at the back of his trousers. Even now her little finger brushed against his tail through the fabric of his pants and Wolf felt a shudder run through his entire body. Oh, the moon! Damn the moon! He felt his tongue start to loll out of the side of his mouth. Sweat pricked his scalp and began to trickle down his brow.
Through a supreme effort of will, he made himself turn away from the pert seductress. Control yourself! -- do it for your creamy, succulent Virginia. This is not the time to --
"What's that stickin' out at the back of yer trousers?" the shepherdess asked, leering. "It's quite a bulge!"
"Yah, what is that, exactly, Mr. Wolfson?" added her rosy-cheeked companion.
Cripes! He'd completely forgotten about the other one! A blonde and a brunette? Goodness gracious -- practically a smorgasbord! Wolf began to pant, all thoughts of control gone instantly. "Well, my tasty trollops, I'll be happy to show you. . ." He let the merest hint of amber flicker in his eyes. Ohhh, he was being bad! This was not what he'd promised himself. After all, hadn't he asked Virginia to help him avoid temptation when the moon was full, and here he was, ready to grab for it, embrace it, lick it all over -- No no no no! Bad thinking, very bad thinking.
The brunette squealed and flushed, ducking behind a beam. "Sally," she whispered, not very secretively, "I don't think we should--"
"Hush, Betty!" A look of impatience hardened the blonde girl's lovely features. "You're such a baby! Why don't you run home to your mamma? I'm eighteen now and I'll do what I want." And with that, she turned her head back to Wolf, cheeks dimpling into a smile, fat curls bouncing, perfect breasts straining against the tight lacings of her bodice. She had a lovely smell, Wolf noted appreciatively, not as perfect as Virginia's aroma, but spicily intriguing nonetheless, cinnamon and tart apples and a little hint of sheep. She was a bit like a small fluffy sheep, only infinitely more seductive. And she seemed to be offering herself to him. Hell, she was practically begging him to do it right here in the tavern.
He swallowed hard, and with a furtive movement turned to look for Virginia. There she was, her cropped head nearly invisible behind a sea of strapping townspeople. She wouldn't even know, he thought, a cunning look crossing his face-- No! No! Don't think that! --but even as he turned again towards the shepherdess, all thoughts were driven from his brain as two massive youths suddenly grabbed him and slammed him against the wall. The shock hit his tail hardest and for a moment he thought he would pass out from the agony.
"--our womenfolk!" one of his assailants said, garlic breath blowing into Wolf's face. The smell combined with the pain made him want to gag. He didn't know what the man wanted, all he knew was that his tail was bent wrong.
"Let's take him out back and teach him a lesson!" the other one sneered. Well, that he understood, all right; townspeople had been saying that to wolves for hundreds of years. Wolf braced himself for further inevitable pain.
And then --
"What are you doing with my husband?!"
At the sound of Virginia's lovely (albeit shrill) voice, Wolf felt a flutter in his heart, a ripple of delight in his belly, a numbness in his legs and a stab of pain as his poor tail stiffened despite itself. Husband! She'd called him her husband! Cripes! Things were definitely looking up! He lost all sense of what was going on around him, but somehow the brutes had released him, and he was being swept along through the crowd, dragged by Virginia -- her hand firmly wrapped around his arm in a territorial grip, an expression of cross annoyance on her face. And then they were outside. In the moonlight. Alone.
Out here the pull of the full moon was nearly irresistable. Wolf felt dizzy, drunk, starving, insatiable. He ran in circles around Virginia, drinking in the perfume of the night, Virginia's powerful, heady aroma. He babbled like a madman -- poetry, sheer nonsensical poetry, brought on by her presence -- so close, oh, so close! to him.
Virginia was not impressed.
In fact she seemed impatient, and that drew him back into himself a little. He sniffed her haughtily -- what did she want? Who did she think she was? He began to get angry. After all, here he had chosen her as his mate, stayed by her, saved her life, put up with her irritating father, pulled that stupid dog from one end of the forest to the other--!!! And what was she giving him in return? Nothing! Should a man accept that? Should a wolf ???
And without him knowing how it had happened they were inside the barn shouting at each other, fear on Virginia's face and the prongs of a pitchfork aimed at his chest. One half of him shouted control yourself, you're terrifying her! but the other half, the stronger half couldn't stop his hands from ripping the pitchfork away, growling, wanting, lusting, demanding. She was close, too close, and the moon was in his brain and in his blood and--
A noise, there was a loud noise as the barn door banged open and Tony rushed in, brimming over with some news, some pointless tale--
Wolf heard none of it. With a strangled howl he flung himself through the door, leaving father and daughter behind in confusion. Finemessfinemessfinemess he babbled to himself; he'd ruined everything! She'd never want him now, now that he'd scared her this way. She'd wanted to kill him, he was sure of that, and who wouldn't want to kill an animal, a nasty animal who couldn't control his impulses?
He gave into despair completely, whining, wailing - oh no! was he foaming at the mouth? Only an animal, a rabid animal, would do that. He peered at his reflection in a trough of water to see and then he saw her, the Evil Queen, his Mistress, but the Moon was his mistress now, and he could no longer resist her summons. He tore himself away and ran from the barn, but he could not run from himself.
He careened through the dark town, looking for something, anything , a sheep, chickens, anything to slake his hunger. He was on the edge of town now, and the buildings were scattered, only a big barn and some outer buildings to go before he would be safely away from everyone, and a farm might have something for him, some prey, something to eat pleasepleaseeathungerhunger--
"Why, Mr. Wolfson!"
She'd come up on him and he hadn't even noticed, that's how far gone he was. The shepherdess -- was she Sally? he didn't really remember which name was hers. Sally or Betty or Ethel or Brunhilda, it didn't matter-- evidently had come from the barn up the hill, and as he tore his gaze away from her and tried to focus, he saw others in ones and twos exiting the barn, walking away towards the town. The stream of people dwindled, then ceased, and then only he and the girl were left in the moonlight.
"What're you doin' here, Mr. Wolfson? Lookin' fer me?"
Wolf narrowed his eyes at the lovely, luscious vision before him. He saw her with almost painful clarity, the translucent skin, golden curls, round, voluptuous figure, all encased in a diffused halo of moonlight that pulsated in time to the blood throbbing in his veins. She regarded him with round blue eyes, not as clear a blue as Virginia's, but arousing nonetheless, eyes that were not innocent, nor sweet, but wanton and compelling.
His better instincts tried to assert themselves, and part of him was arguing not good! Go back! Find Virginia but the moon was stronger and it pulled inexorably on the other half and it said Virginia doesn't want you, does she? and after a while, a very short while, his mind was going hazy and he wasn't thinking at all. And Sally-or-Ethel had fastened her hand on his belt, her little fingers tantalizingly close to his more intimate parts, and she was leading, no, dragging him towards a shed, and he caught the musky arousal in her scent and then he was going along quite willingly. Even as his mind dulled, his senses sharpened. The grass brushed against his legs, setting his skin on fire even through his trousers. An owl shrieked in the distance but it felt close enough to snap at.
They reached the door of the shed and without turning around Sally bumped it open with a little flick of her rump. A small moan began in Wolf's throat. Sally licked her lips. Wolf stood mesmerized by the little pink tongue that darted around her pouting mouth. His moan became a low growl. Sally traced a finger down his chest, from neck to stomach, leaving a burning trail in its wake. The growl grew louder and he couldn't stop it, but the maddening action of her mouth was inflaming him and he couldn't stand it any more, so he stopped the wet, pink, darting, tempting tongue with his own mouth, pushing her backwards as he did so, carrying both of them forward with his momentum to crash against the far wall. He devoured her mouth, sucking, licking, biting, not drawing blood, but roughly enough, without a thought to being gentle.
The girl seemed not to mind. In fact, as he pressed her against the wall, her hands found his buttocks and began to squeeze and fondle them. Then one of her hands touched his tail, and she didn't seem to care, for she squeezed anyway and that made him start and gasp, pulling his face abruptly from hers. The girl pouted as they separated, grabbing his head with both hands and drawing him in to her again.
Now his hands took on lives of their own. One found the upthrust mound of a breast and began to knead it, urging it out of its tight prison, while the other clawed at her hair, her creamy shoulder, her heaving sides. His rapacious hunger drove him on; impatient, both hands as one slid around to the front of her dress, and in a sudden violent gesture tore the bodice laces in two.
"Careful, Mr. Wolfson," she breathed in his ear, sending the hairs on the back of his neck into a frenzied dance. He couldn't bear it; he shoved his rough face into the opening, tasting her, slicking the tantalizing breasts with his tongue, nipping at her stiffening nipples. His lengthening canine teeth left little red marks as they grazed her flesh. Now it was she who moaned a little, and his power over her thrilled him. But then she shoved him back, pulling her breast out of his mouth, making him ache for the lost contact, and for a wild moment he had an unimpeded view of her white bosom, two perfect, upthrust bouncing orbs that hypnotized and taunted him. Saliva gathered in the corners of his mouth. She looked good enough to eat, tasty and succulent and filling and his muscles tensed as he prepared to spring--
But she was talking, and worse, her hand had sneaked down his belly and was stroking the growing bulge in the front of his pants this time, and his cloudy brain could barely make out her words but his body understood completely. "Mr. Wolfson," she commanded him, "you need to do it properly. Take yer clothes off."
Before his mind could answer, his hands complied, tearing off his vest, pulling open his shirt, unbuckling his belt, fumbling at his trousers.
He stopped suddenly, his sweaty hands on the second button from the bottom.
"What're you waitin' fer, then?" she said, breathlessly, a flush of passion coloring her breasts and shoulders. The look on her face told a familiar tale. He'd seen human women look at him like that before, when they wanted him. They'd made their wishes clear. And he'd usually granted them, sharing his body with them but never his heart. He'd kept aloof, in control, disdainful of their needs, taking what pleasure the couplings brought him, then dismissing them as weak, lesser beings.
He'd never done this by moonlight.
A wisp of a thought reached him through the blood in his eyes and the pounding in his body: you've changed. For Virginia. Wolves mate for life.
But another, darker, wordless thought rose out of his loins to meet it, telling him that it didn't matter, because that kind of mating was love. This was lust, pure and simple. This was hunger and he was ravenous.
His trousers came down in one rapid pull, the bottom button tearing loose and skittering across the floor; he didn't bother with removing his boots, or taking off his shirt. He just needed her now. With a sudden lunge he grabbed her, fastening his voracious mouth on hers again, crashing with her to the hay-covered floor. She squirmed beneath him as he tore at her clothes in an effort to get more of her naked; she giggled and groped him in return, thinking it a game. Her hand grabbed at his groin, got hold of him, and her eyes widened momentarily. "Why, Mr. Wolfson," she whispered huskily," what a big thing you've got!" He could only grunt in reply at the touch of her moist fingers encircling him. He pawed at her skirts -- why were there so many of them?-- but up they came at last, covering her glorious breasts, but he didn't care about her breasts any more, because his hands had found what he was after, and she was wet with desire and the smell of her aroused him even further and he was moving upwards to join with her. For an agonizing moment her hand let go of him, but then that was all right, because with an urgent thrust he was inside her. Oh! Infinitely better. Warm! Wet! He pushed at her, into her, driven by nothing but animal lust and desire. He forgot Virginia. He no longer cared where he was, who he was; his whole world was sex and hunger and need.
The girl moaned in rhythmic, guttural bursts, occasionally crying "Yes!" and "Oh!" and "More!" and once she chastised him, "Slow down!" but he could no more have slowed down than he could have stopped to make her a cup of tea. He wasn't aware of the keening noise coming from him, just of the exquisite pain of pleasure as he pounded on towards a climax. Somewhere, far away, the girl was making noises but he paid no attention. He felt a hand between them as she reached down to touch herself, but she still rose up to meet his thrusts and he didn't care.
And then, when the pressure and the urgency were nearly unbearable, he felt the moment arriving, and he was on the brink, and he was over it, coming and howling and releasing himself into her for what seemed an eternity. His body tensed, and with a final shudder his muscles seemed to melt and he collapsed limply across the girl in a dazed stupor.
Almost immediately she began to stir. She extricated herself from under him, shoving him aside roughly. As she did so, her hand paused for a moment above his tail, then yanked at it, not gently. His eyes flew open. Her face was only inches from his, and the look she gave him was superior and cruel. "I knew what you were from the first," she said savagely. "I never had a wolf before. You certainly are selfish things, aren't you!" She yanked on his tail once more for good measure, and at last he moved, rolling over and pulling himself up to lean against the wall -- anything to keep her away from his poor abused tail.
The girl climbed back into her clothes matter-of-factly, the image of alluring seductiveness completely gone. She scooped up her broken laces and shook them in his face, too close for him to focus on clearly. "Now look what you've done, you beast, you've torn my best laces! Now how'm I supposed to get home?" She tossed her curls petulantly, sending her angry glare around the shed, then bent to grab at one of Wolf's boots. "Well, now, this'll have to do, won't it, Mr. Wolfson? I guess I'll just have to take one of yer laces, then, not that it's nearly as nice." With that she quickly pulled out the lace and tied up her unkempt bodice.
Wolf tried to collect himself, but he couldn't seem to move his limbs effectively. He leaned against the wall, his trousers still bunched around his ankles. The way the girl was speaking to him filled him with rage and he thought maybe she needed to be killed and he should do it; he had a vision of jumping up and ripping out her throat, but it seemed like more effort than he could muster. He lolled against the rough wood, out of breath.
Sally turned once more to him, one hand on the door latch, her face a cold mask of disdain and dismissal. "And one thing more, Mr. Wolfson, if that is yer name, I know yer little secret, and if I see you again, or if you tell one soul about this, I'll tell my people that you forced me. Do you understand? They'll burn you fer sure, don't think they won't. I'll see to that!" And with a flounce of her skirts she was gone.
Wolf let his head fall back against the wall with a dull thump. A howl of despair escaped his throat, sliding into a wail, a whine, and finally a choked sob that trailed off into silence. Though for the moment his mind was his own, he could feel the moon rushing to fill his head again. He'd slaked one hunger but a new one was welling up and twisting his insides.
A torrent of guilt poured through him. Why? Why,why,why? How could he have done this? It sickened him; he'd betrayed his love to Virginia. It had been different before, when he was a lone wolf. Now he was mated. He'd cheated on Virginia with this trollop, and even if Virginia didn't understand yet that she was his mate, his actions had been inexcusable. The pleasure his body had taken was immaterial compared to the pain and guilt of knowing he had succumbed to his animal nature, and the pain his actions would bring his own, dear Virginia. This was bad. Very, very bad. This was the worst thing he'd ever done.
Slowly Wolf pulled himself upright, adjusting his clothes. The moon was beginning to set, but it did not release its hold on a wolf so easily. His breath had calmed, but now a bitter certainty filled him with anguish, that he'd ruined his chances with Virginia, and that he couldn't ever, ever be trusted. He needed to be locked away, tied up. Killed like a rabid dog.
And his hunger had returned.
His eyes glowing, he ran through the door and loped off into the graying darkness.