The ivy covering the south wall was old, and the creeping vines had pushed their roots into every little crevice they found. As she clung to the wall, Nymeria sought to emulate the growth, pushing her fingers and toes into every little crevice and gap in the masonry, and clinging to the thick vegetation itself when no other hand or foothold presented itself. It was one of the reasons she chose the south-facing side of the castle for her climb, but not the only one. The stone was pale and tended to catch even moonlight, or at least enough of it to reveal a climber, but the dark leaves would serve to hide the lupine fur.
Choosing a moonless night would have helped, but the young wolfess needed light to see what she was doing as she scaled the ancient wall of what used to be her family home. And there was another reason why she’d waited for the full moon to rise. It was a superstition - one that she’d always believed in – that the sight of a full moon in the night sky always made wolves a little fiercer, and she’d need to be every built as fierce as she could be for tonight’s work.
The memories of that night, along with her short life before the flight had been dim and blurred, at least until she approached the place of her birth. The sounds and smells of the place were like a bellows pumped against dying embers, making horrors that were a decade old seem suddenly fresh. There had been some sort of war, one that was coming close enough to worry her father, but the king had been sure that it was an outside threat. He’d been proven wrong when a long armed column rode down the road in the dwindling dusk, fresh steeds and uninjured riders who obviously hadn’t fought their way through the forces ringing the keep, but had been allowed to pass unmolested. Despite his age and station her father donned his armor and took up his sword, as did her brothers, even Roland, to whom fencing was still little more than a game.
It had seemed a desperate fight even before some of the guards turned their cloaks, after which it had been a rout… a slaughter. She had been in the throne room, been there to see her father rally those men who remained loyal before the depth of the betrayal became apparent. When Kaleth first strode in with his sword clenched in his paw little Nymeria’s heart had lifted for a brief moment. Until that night he’d been her ‘noku’, an uncle despite the fact she knew he was really a distant relation. But instead of attacking the traitors he assumed command of them, the turn-cloak royal guard arraying themselves around their turn-cloak captain.
She forced herself to take a deep, steadying breath as the worst of the memories rose up from where she’d buried them - the sword tip that found her father’s throat and sank in, her brothers cut down as they stared in horror as the once proud king fell lifeless to the floor of his own throne room. Seeing that things had gone from desperate to hopeless, her mother pushed her into the arms of a maid as she grabbed a knife from one of the fallen guards and moved to block the doorway she’d pushed them through.
The mare had been terrified but loyal. She’d held Nym against her as she ran as fast as she could with the squealing toddler in her arms. The wolfess remembered hearing her mother growl and curse the armed men demanding she move aside, and sometime later she heard a long, pained howl that left little doubt that the queen had given her life to buy her daughter and only surviving child some time to flee. The maid had taken the time only to dress Nymeria, now stunned into dreadful silence as her mother’s dying cry rang in her ears.
Garbed in ill-fitting and much-patched clothes and with a deep cowl pushed over her head the mare managed to get her out of the castle, no doubt looking like some common serving-woman rushing to get her own child out of harm’s way. They managed to get to the city proper, but the streets were full of treasonous troops celebrating their victory by taking what they pleased. She heard a few of them shouting drunkenly as they made their way closer, and without any better idea what to do the maid set Nymeria down and bit her run away and not turn back. Nym darted into an alley but stayed there, hoping that the mare would talk her way out of trouble and join her. She could still remember the sound of tearing cloth and the loyal servant’s own cries as she did what she could to buy the pup some time to escape.
Acting on some basic instinct, she’d fled along the streets, avoiding uniformed soldiers until she found herself in a place where the drunken, looting troops were hesitant to go. The law-abiding citizens were cowering at the sight of them, but without knowing it she’d wondered into the part of the city where people didn’t scare easy, and had their own notions on law and authority. It had been children who caught her darting along the moon-light alleyways, but children older than she was, with nothing really child-like about them. And they did with her what they did with every other valuable thing they happened to find or steal – they gave her to the old wolf…
*******
“Come now my little princess, surely you can do better after all this time?” Byron asked, his voice gentle but chiding. An unremarkable tone one might use to reprimand a child without any real anger, but out of place considering what the child was doing at the time.
Nymeria had been stroking the fat lupine sheath, intending to do the same once more of Byron’s cock was coaxed from it. Years ago, when the old wolf had initially taken her into his ‘pack’ this sort of tribute would have sufficed, and the grizzled swordmaster would happily watch her struggle to polish his massive member with her little paws until he sprayed all over the pup. He was lounging in his old curule seat, the kind with arm rests but no back favored by campaigning officers and a hint at he past of the lupine who now made his way in life by teaching sword craft to the sons of well-off commoners. At least, that was his legitimate means of support. Most of his wealth, well hidden as it was, came from the tributes provided by his pack.
Nymeria was the youngest in a group of nearly two dozen parentless youths (or those who escaped their parents), and many of them were even now in the place the pack made their lair. Byron held the deed to the dilapidated warehouse, but the place wasn’t worth much, situated as it was by the old peer that was almost rotted away and now served as a dock for the little fishing skiffs rather than proper trading vessels. It stank of fish offal that had seeped into worn and weathered wood, but it was a sort of home to both Nymeria and her pack-mates.
They were watching even now. The place had ropes strung up and old sailcloth draped across them, to break up the single massive chamber into smaller rooms, albeit ones with no door or curtain of any kind (pack-mates had no secrets from each other, as Byron insisted). But most of the time everyone just lounged about the open central area, especially when Nymeria was giving the old wolf her own, personal tribute. Everything they got their paws on they surrendered to their leader and protector, and received form Byron whatever reward he deemed fit to give, as well as his approval, which carried a great deal of weight. One’s place in the pack was derived largely of how high a regard the pack leader held one in. And advancement always brought envy, something Nym got just by being a full-blooded wolf like Byron himself.
Which was why they were all watching her, including those who were even at that very moment collecting on some intimate debts. It was common enough to see bare bodies in the old storehouse that was their sanctum, and nobody bothered with even token privacy. But even those rutting or being rutted had their eyes on the old wolf’s ‘throne’ and the little bitch bent over one of his knees with her head in his crotch.
Knowing that the lecherous lupine wouldn’t be satisfied by a half-hearted attempt, Nymeria decided to swallow her pride along with his shaft. Parting her muzzle she let the thick red tip slide in, pressing down until her lips were brushing against Byron’s sheath. She could see the powerful muscles in the old wolf’s thighs tense at the sensation of a young mouth suckling him, but it was only when Nym reached out to play with the wolf’s swollen sack did she get the low lusty growl that was always a sure sign of her swordmaster’s approval.
It wasn’t that she really resented doing this. Despite the fact that she was still quite young and her body showed no signs of developing into full womanhood the reality was that she’d wound up on the streets as just a little girl with no one to care for her and no means of supporting herself. As such her innocence was long gone, and it was the wolf she was even now suckling who’d done the honors. She’d been taught that nothing on the street was free and she had to find ways to make herself useful to those that would feed and protect her. Before Nymeria had learned to steal, half her meals had come from the loins of their lupine leader and the boys of the pack.
And she didn’t really resent him for it, even with his cock sliding along her tongue and poking the back of her throat. All of the girls and most of the boys in the pack had started off nursing from Byron’s cock, and those who failed to come up with proper tribute still paid by lifting their tail and doing what was expected of them. In fact, it was so common that it didn’t draw the attention of the others. But every time it was Nym’s turn she felt eyes on her as the mongrel pack enjoyed the sight of the obviously high-born girl being reduced to something so base and degrading as servicing a male in full view of others.
Without their stares and taunts about how good a cocksucker the ‘little princess’ was, she knew that she wouldn’t really mind servicing the old wolf. They pack called him that since most of them were more or less children, and in truth Byron was still in his physical prime. The body of the gang-leader was still swollen with muscles, the scars covering it making it clear he’d made his way in life by killing others and not getting killed himself. And the red length now slipping into her throat was no less impressive, and Nym knew that by the time he was ready to feed her his seed the knot at the base would be so swollen that she couldn’t encircle it with both her paws.
“Mmmhhh, there’s my little princess…” the wolf murmured happily, patting down the wild crest at the top of Nym’s head as his massive paw slipped lower along her body.
Most of the time the mention of her pet-name would have Nymeria folding her ears back in irritation, but hearing the old wolf use it never really felt like a taunt. It might be because only he really knew who she was and didn’t use the term as just a taunt. Being a full-blooded wolf, Nymeria’s royal lineage was impossible to hide. There were plenty of people with some lupine blood in them, since many royal males (and a few females) down the years had enjoyed indiscrete liaisons with commoners ranging from whores to maids to guards. But these were bastard-born and as such even commoners could and did tend to look down on them. 
Most of the pack assumed she was as well – the product of some torrid affair between the people who ruled kingdoms and still failed to rule their passions- and she wouldn’t be surprised if Byron himself had planted that notion. They had no idea that they’d pushed their crotches into the face of the legitimate heir to the throne and used the term ‘little princess’ to taunt her and make sure that she remembered that she was a street-rat like the rest of them, no matter her blood.
The feel of Byron’s thick fingers scratching the base of her tail took Nym’s mind off her leering pack-mates, her tail lifting on reflex as she toyed with the huge wolf’s impressive sack, the knot now out in the open and growing as she pressed her muzzle against it. When a calloused digit brushed against the pink pucker hidden between her perky little cheeks she almost flagged her tail down on reflex. She knew that she had to let Byron have his fun with her, a payment for the fencing lessons she was getting from him, but she wasn’t a boy and didn’t want him buggering her.
Fortunately the old wolf seemed to just have been teasing her, and the little wolfess hiked the bushy appendage a little when the rough but skilled digits slid across her immature slit. Despite her loss of innocence, Nymeria was still young and her interest in males barely awakened, but she did recognize the fact that Byron was handsome, and there was something about the old wolf’s hard scarred body that she found appealing. She definitely didn’t find her eyes being drawn to the boys that way, but a few of them knew how to touch her the right way and could give her the same strange thrill she got when the wolf whose cock was even now lodged in her throat did.
Not that they bothered very often. Mostly they were happy just to push their cocks in their faces or to push her muzzles between their thighs, as the girls in the pack did. On one occasion she’d been able to catch Tannith in a good enough mood that the weasel consented to using her tongue on Nym’s own slit, and while it had felt amazing to have someone licking her out for a change she couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel if it was the old wolf’s tongue pushing past her chubby young folds.
It was the reality of her life – nothing for free, and nothing more important than belonging to the pack. So she had to make her pack-mates happy in any way they wanted, but only them. Byron had made it clear early on that she was never to offer herself to an outsider, or let one use her the way the rest of the youths and the wolf himself did. He’d told her that he wasn’t a whoremonger, and that if she wanted to make her way in life by selling her tail she needed to find a teacher other than him. He would train her to fight, and to kill. Her muzzle and one day her cunny were merely fair compensation for his time…
Not to mention that Byron knew other ways to motivate her. She was growing every day but her body was still some years away from starting the journey to womanhood. It did little to change the fact that there was no innocence left to her, and young or not her body was responding to the skilled touch of the male whose shaft she was nursing. She could feel her plump folds grown moist and then wet as the thick finger teased the smooth lips of her sex, the tip occasionally dipping in and out in a way that had her moaning around the thick red length leaking against her tongue.
But skilled as he was, Byron wasn’t generous. Nymeria knew by now that if she wanted more, she had to do better, so she pushed her muzzle down just a little, one of her paws stroking the swelling knot of the large male while the other played with the swollen pouch resting under it. It looked like the old wolf hadn’t taken any of the others today, meaning that Nymeria would have to do her best not to choke and gag when the red rod finally went off in her mouth.
Her efforts were rewarded, and the young wolfess could feel her raised tail tremble as the finger teasing her slit slipped in. She knew it wasn’t the part of Byron she was supposed to take back there, since she’d watched him claim a few of the older girls. He was still far too big for her, but the wolfess had little doubt that the moment she was old enough it would be the meaty red shaft parting her folds, the tip that was even now poking the back of her throat pushing deeper into her than a finger could hope to reach. And sooner or later she’d even be forced to take the knot, and with it every drop of lupine spunk the old wolf had to give her. The idea scared her a little since the other girls tended to squeal when it went in and whimper as it grew inside their cunnies, but none of them were wolves.
“Good girl… just a little more…” she heard Byron say, the rough, growly tone in his voice making a shiver run down her spine and along her flagged tail.
It also drove her to redouble her efforts, her head bobbing in his lap as her lips polished the thick rosy length. Her little nose was flaring as she both struggled to get enough air and as she unconsciously took in the scent of a male lupine in his prime, her mind and body still too young to properly recognize and respond to the musk.
The old wolf matched her, the thick digit pumping her little slit as the gathered pack cheered him on. She could feel she was wet enough back there for her juices to drip with every thrust of Byron’s finger. It was just about all she could feel, her senses narrowing as they always did to the fullness and the friction in her young quim. She could feel her mind dimming, recognizing the strange sensation that the large lupine never failed to coax from her.
They were taunting her, calling the ‘little princess’ a slut, a bitch in heat. She couldn’t care, could barely make out the taunts despite the raised voices ringing out in the old warehouse. Her head kept moving on some sort of instinct as her toes curled and the force of her orgasm hit her. Her ears folded back against her head in a gesture of feminine submission that she couldn’t really comprehend, but they still picked up the strange mewls that the cock in her muzzle failed to muffle. Byron had pushed his finger in as deep as he could, and she could feel him rubbing the splayed folds of her sex even as her young cunny convulsed around the digit.
She was coming out of her trance at just the right time. She felt the wolf’s pouch tighten and the knot begin to pulse under her palm. With her paws still shaking a little she grabbed the red bulge and squeezed as tight as she could, amazed again that something could feel as hard as a rock and at the same time pulse with life and heat. She pulled her head up until the tip of Byron’s cock was cradled on her tongue, and just in time for the first jet of warm lupine seed to flood her mouth. She waited for another before gulping it down, working frantically to keep up with the flow of a fully grown male as he bred her muzzle.
She’d dared to hope she could take the whole thing with no more than a cough or sputter, but try as she might she couldn’t keep up with the flow of lupine spunk, and was forced to pull her muzzle off the red length as it continued to spray the grunting male’s load. She felt Byron’s hand of her scruff, not forcing her back down but keeping her close enough to the spurting tip that the ropes of milky goo were leaving messy streaks all over her face.
“Good girl Nym… but you’ll need to do better next time…” he rumbled, pulling his finger form her sex but still keeping her scruffed until he was done, and needed her to clean him up.
*******
Another pause, another period of tense silence with no noise for the ear to catch but the shuffle of paws across beaten dirt. A tense atmosphere as two figures circled a third, their heights almost even now although the wolfess in the center had the slim shoulders that suggested she hadn't really hit her growth spurt yet. And then another flurry of activity as the room filled with loud clacks of wood on wood. A fierce racked that lasted for a tense half-minute before ending in hisses and grunts. When it was done Nymeria stood triumphant, her chest rising and falling as if her body wanted to draw the eye to the two bumps she now sported, the first true signs of her femininity visible only because Byron preferred for them all to spar in the nude. It helped- he insisted- to drive point just how vulnerable they are in combat. According to him, only a fool trusted armor over his instincts, and those were fools who could pay a small fortune for proper armor.
Will had been the better off of the two boys who'd went up against her. He was merely rubbing life back into the fingers she’d smacked, not hard enough to break bones but hard enough to make the fox drop his mock-sword. Bran, the mongrel dog and the larger of the two, was clutching at a spot just below his sternum. She'd done little more than poke the spot, but the liver was sensitive and it was all the dog could do to keep his last meal down. She turned to look at the old wolf, getting a nod that acknowledged her victory. It was as much as she could hope for. When he had time to talk to her in private, Byron would give her no praise for her feat. Instead he would focus on everything Nym had done wrong, and as frustrating as it was the young wolfess knew he was doing it to hone her, to make her ready for the near-impossible mission she would one day undertake. The mere idea of revenge was worth anything.
"What got into you? You didn't need to hit Bran like that..." Will complained, trying to help the dry-heaving canine to his feet.
"A thrust can get him as easily as a slash or a chop. This should teach him to protect his chest. He left himself vulnerable, and I pounced on it…" she said, putting her wooden blade back on the rack that held similar implements of various shapes and sizes. She could hear that Bran had recovered behind her and was getting up.
"What the fuck is wrong with you? We're practicing here!" the irate fox kept insisting, getting on Nym's nerves. She'd given it her all during the grueling session against two opponents who she knew were stronger than she was, and the elation of victory did little to change the fact that she was exhausted, and in no mood to quarrel.
"I did whatever it took! You know that this isn't some game we're..." she began but stopped with a yelp of pain as she realized what Bran had been doing while the fox kept her attention on him. The grip on the base of her tail was firm and the mutt holding it was strong enough to pull her up and off her feet. He then used his other arm to sweep the wolfess’ legs back, holding them tight as she tumbled forward. Nymeria's paws shot out to touch the floor and give her some balance, but that had been what Will was waiting for. A rope was wound around her wrists and before the wolfess could do anything the kit's nimble fingers had done their magic. She could then feel Bran maneuver behind her so that his hips were flush with her rear before he forced her down on the ground so that she wound up with her legs parted and the big dog's weight resting on her as the fox kept his knee on her bound wrists. Another girl might have been paralyzed with fear and panic, or might have been in denial of what the two males had in store even as she felt the tip of Bran's cock prod around her rear, looking for something soft and vulnerable.
But Nym was no stranger to the life of a young female in the pack, and no longer a stranger to the feeling of a male's shaft between her still immature folds. There was even pleasure to be found in it, a thrill once she got past the humiliation that came with submission. But she didn't feel like she owed Will and Bran anything at this moment, and resented the fact the two boys seemed determined to take it anyway.
"The little princess thinks were just her serfs. That she can beat us whenever she feels frustrated..." Bran growled above her and as he did Nym could feel his tip press first against one of her folds before sinking between them. "She needs to be reminded what it was like to be a good little girl, polishing our cocks for the food we brought to the table..."
Nym hissed at the pain of the sudden penetration, even though Bran was only two inches in before she felt his sheath against the bare skin of her sex. He hadn’t been fully aroused when he pounced on her, but he didn't need to be. Whereas some males needed time to fully stiffen, vulpines, lupines and canines were always hard and could penetrate first and then let their shaft engorge and slide out as they humped away at whoever happened to be impaled on the red tip.
She tried to wriggle free, but she knew there was little point. Bran and Will had her pinned, and Brand alone was heavier than she was, a fact that was driven home as the angry dog humped against her. He wasn't pulling back far enough for his cock to leave her yet, instead just bucking against her so that her folds would push back his sheath and expose more of his rosy shaft to the silken walls of her young sex.
The mutt seemed to have really taken offense at the way she'd brought him down with one thrust, grunting and growling as he forced himself in her without any regard for a body that still hadn't begun to properly blossom into womanhood. She knew that he was fully unsheathed when she felt the sting of a still slender knot slipping past her lips, making her wince even though she knew the bulge was still so small as to barely be noticeable, at least by the eye.
She felt Bran shift a little on top of her, lifting himself off her rear only enough so he could have some room to really thrust. Now that he was fully out of his sheath and there was no danger of his tip slipping from her quim, he began to slide out before bucking and driving the whole thing in again. She even felt the knot slip in and out of her a few times, and wondered if the dog was angry enough to risk disobeying Byron's order. Despite the fact that she was forced to lift her tail for those that stood above her in the pack, the old wolf had made it clear no one was allowed to tie with her. Bran seemed to have just enough sense left not to risk angering the leader of their group, since on his next thrusts Nym could feel the swelling lump of flesh slam against her splayed folds but not hard enough for the humping canine to risk having it slip in and lock them together.
He was trying to be rough, and even though it did hurt more than just her pride to have her young body invaded by the older boy, she could feel something familiar rising through the pain. It was the feeling Byron had stirred in her younger years by rubbing her plump young slit, and a little later by dipping a finger in. That had been pleasant, but it had done little more than whet her interest, a deep instinctive knowledge that there was something else that was supposed to go in there, something that could sate this growing need better than a finger or a tongue.
Byron's had been her first, although she'd barely taken it. She remembered the pain of the red rod prying her open, and the second one when the tip punched through her maidenhead. She'd only been able to take three inches or so of the girthy cock, and the old wolf had held himself inside her and held her against his barrel chest as he called another girl over to stroke and lick his shaft and knot until he came inside the wolf pup whimpering needily on top of him.
She knew what was being pumped into her young body, of course. She'd stroked the red rod sticking out of the old wolf's lap too many times to be ignorant, sometimes having her muzzle pushed down on the tip so that she was forced to swallow the spray of warm lupine seed, or having Byron hold her by the scruff with one hand as he held his cock with the other, shooting streaks of wolf-spunk until she was doused with the pearly goo.
After he was done he let the boys take their tribute out on her cunny, provided they didn't knot her. Boys were much easier to take than the huge wolf, easy enough that she could take a real rutting from them. And that was just what Bran was doing - keeping her pinned as he took his anger out on her, trying to make it hurt even though their young bodies were hungry for the coupling, no matter how violent.
As the mongrel thrust and humped against her, grunting every time he sheathed his hard young shaft in her Nym found herself imagining Byron on top of her. In order for the fantasy to work she had to imagine herself fully grown, since there was no way she'd be able to take a rutting this fierce from the male that dwarfed the mutt currently mating her. Her feelings towards the old wolf were complex, but she knew that she didn't love him. He was not the sort to court affection, but there was much about the roguish swordmaster she admired. Mostly it was his strength, both physical and that strength of will that he used to keep a firm hold on the violent gang of youths who obeyed him without hesitation or complaint.
As much as Nym had needed a father figure after losing both her family and her home, Byron was not and never would be one. The old wolf was frugal with approval, and never hid the fact that members of his pack needed to work hard to win it and harder yet to keep it. She was also aware of the fact that the lecherous lupine had taken advantage of her, as he had so many children, conditioning them to provide him with sexual favors in exchange for his protection and his approval.
It didn't change the fact that he was- even in his middle years- the sort of male that could coax a response from something distinctively feminine inside her, a part of her psyche that was developing along with her young body. Even just imagining the grizzled wolf on top of her rather than Bran had the same effect spice and herbs had on bland food. It was just a street mutt's cock pumping away at her slit, and it would fill her with the seed of a boy she knew wasn't worthy of her, despite the fact he'd managed to jump her and slide that red rod in between her skinny thighs.
She only realized she'd had her eyes screwed shut to better let her visualize what she wanted to be happening rather than what was when she felt something cover her nosepad. On reflex and a desperate need to get desperately needed air as she was used by the canine covering her, she opened her muzzle, only to have Will shove himself in until her lips were pressed against his slender knot.
"Fuck, it's been a while, huh? Come on princess, don't tell me you've forgotten how to do this? C'mon, you can close those pretty eyes again and pretend I'm the old wolf..." the kit said, guessing what she'd been doing so far to make her forced breeding more palatable. And if the fox hadn't sheathed his cock into her muzzle, she would have laughed at the notion. No effort of her imagination could make her confuse Byron with the mongrel riding her cunny for all it was worth, and Bran was noticeably bigger than Will in more ways than one.
She began to suckle the vulpine member because she didn't really have a choice. She couldn't spit it out and biting was out of the question. Causing injury to a pack-mate could get one kicked out, and Byron had told both her and the other younger and smaller members of the group that if they didn't want a cock in them they shouldn't let someone stick it in. Since she'd failed to do that, the best Nym could do was to stroke the red meat with her tongue, knowing that Will wouldn't dismount her face until he was done, and the sooner she drank down his cum the sooner she'd get the kit off her head.
Bran was really railing her now, and Nymeria couldn't help but wonder where that energy had been during their mock-fight. She rankled at the fact that he'd gotten the jump on her and that it was his cock even now pummeling her young slit as the young cunny dripped both their juices. She knew she was better than these two, and in a way that had nothing to do with her birth, like they always claimed. And even as her body responded to the maddening friction between her legs, even as the cock in her mouth began to seem more appetizing with every thrust and every suckle, it still rankled her that she was submitting to the likes of these two. If it had been Byron on her back... well her body couldn't have taken something like this from the lupine male, plain and simple. But if Byron was closer to her age, or if she was just a little closer to his... it seemed like an entirely different proposition. Submitting to someone stronger, bigger... she loathed the manipulative swordmaster on some level, but he would be worthy of her, worthy of the right to take her any way he wanted, as hard as he wanted.
The thought took root in her mind, combined with the sensation of a male covering her, mating her… Briefly she forgot who she was, where she was, and what she thought of the boys using her. Her pride broke and need won over, the honed muscles of her growing body twitching as her climax washed over her. Will said something she didn't catch, but by the tone she guessed he was gloating over the fact that she was cumming. Bran couldn't manage anything more than grunts and pants as he kept furiously mating her. He'd been winded before Nym's climax, and the sensation of her already tight quim growing even more snug as it pulsed and squeezed around him left him speechless.
He’d managed to force his knot in and came almost a second later. The shaft held within her sex throbbed with each pulse of watery canine cum, the boyish knot managing to hold some of it in but failing to provide a firm enough tie. Nymeria could hear the cum squirting around the swollen bulge, the sound hurting her pride as surely as the grins both the boys were sporting. Nor did Bran see fit to wait until he began to shrink, pulling hard until the swollen knot slipped from between her sore folds and his last few streaks of cum shot across her back. Nymeria lifted her face to snarl at him but froze when she saw the old wolf leaning against a wall and taking in the scene.
“You… why didn’t you…?” she asked, or tried to, her muzzle still feeling sore after being fucked by a horny kit.
“You thought you were in no danger just because you put your weapon away?” the wolf asked “That should teach you, princess. Never leave yourself vulnerable. Someone might pounce on you…”
*******
Once again a crowd had gathered and once again Nymeria was the center of attention. But this time ‘round the wolfess didn’t mind the gazes, especially since there wasn’t a taunt to be heard. Let them watch, and let them see! She thought to herself, the elation lending strength to her muscles as she lunged at an opening, forcing Bran to leap back and buy himself the few inches that meant the difference between the tip of Nym’s sword brushing through his fur and cutting through his hide. Tobias had yielded when she’d knocked his sword from his hand and it was just the big mutt and Rory.
She knew the otter was a sneak and would be behind her, waiting for his chance. She made it look like she was still focused on taking Bran down, pushing hard and faking a stumble as she lunged again. Rory took the bait as she knew he would, rushing forward and realizing too late that he’d been goaded. Nymeria easily stepped aside and kicked out with one foot as the otter darted past her, sending the smaller male hurtling towards the larger canine she’d been facing. Neither boy had been ready for the maneuver, and as Bran’s blade fell to the ground the wolfess savored her triumph.
“The fuck was that Nym!? I almost ran face-first into Bran’s sword!” Rory bemoaned, dusting himself off as he got to his feet, fully aware of the size of their audience and how much face the three of them had just lost.
“Here’s a little tip Rory – if you’re gonna be a back-stabbing little cunt, make sure you don’t miss the back.” Nymeria barked. “And next time you’re flying face-first towards Bran, you might as well open your mouth. Your muzzle’s about as high as his crotch anyway, so you might as well do something you’re good at.”
“And you thought it necessary to say that last part, did you?” Byron asked, his tone cold as he glared at her. Nymeria stared right back into his eyes as she got enough breath for a reply.
“Three of them couldn’t do it. Hand-picked by you for this fight, and I still brought them down. If you want me to get better, you’ll have to pick up a sword yourself.” She said, the elation that came with victory making her more defiant and honest than she might have been otherwise.
“Really? You think you’re better than anyone here, save for myself, of course?” the old wolf said, a hint of menace in his voice as he gazed down at her. 
Nym forced herself to stand still and matched the towering male’s stare, only realizing that it had been a ploy when she felt Byron’s iron grip on her wrist. She knew it was hopeless to try and extract herself from the hold, but before she could even try the old wolf have it a squeeze and a twist, enough to make her hiss as her paw went slack. Byron easily plucked the sword form her limp grasp, holding up the short slim blade in front of her.
“Do you think you’re ready? To go out there with nothing to keep you safe but this?” he asked, giving her wrist another squeeze to suggest what the correct answer was.
“Aahhh! N-no…” Nymeria grudgingly admitted.
“That’s right. You still need your pack. And if you want them to consider you a pack-mate, you can’t afford to sow the seeds of resentment.”
“I understand…” Nymeria mumbled, hoping that Byron would be satisfied by humbling her in front of the same crowd that had just witnessed her triumph.
“No, but you will…” he said, releasing her and stepping away with her sword still clutched in his paw.
“Hey! I earned that!” she protested.
“And I took it.” The wolf replied, daring her to challenge his right to do so.
It wasn’t the first blade Nym had ever held or used, but it was the best one by far. It was forged to the old wolf’s order, a slim length of fine steel, two razor-sharp edges and a point that could slash as easily as it could stab. Like her very body, the blade was designed for the purpose that was the driving force in the young wolfess’ life, the perfect instrument for her revenge. She felt close to tears in for the first time in ages at the thought of losing it, and with it some of the hope that she might exact payment in blood form the one who’d taken everything from her all those years ago.
“For the rest of the evening…” Byron said, speaking loudly enough that everyone could hear. “…and most of the night, you will make yourself available to your pack-mates. Anyone who wants you, and anything they want. If you do that, in the morning we can talk about you earning this back…” he said, turning his back on her and walking away with Nymeria’s sword tucked into his sash.
As the old wolf’s footsteps faded into silence, the crowd began to edge closer, grins spread across every muzzle as the contemplated the night ahead. Many of the girls and some of the younger boys were simply relieved that tonight the duty of sating the lust of the budding males of the pack would fall to the little princess. 
It had been some time since Nymeria had been expected to service anyone apart from the old wolf himself. She’d grown in the past few years, so much that Byron alone stood taller than her. Her body had also started to fill out, her once flat chest swelling with modest breasts that had that firmness that hinted they weren’t done growing by far. And even her hips had begun to flare leaving her with a body that couldn’t be mistaken for a boy’s, but couldn’t be mistaken for a woman’s either.
She took a deep breath, her keen nose catching the scent of arousal on the air even before her eyes caught sight of sheaths swelling as the males grew erect at the sight of her naked body. Soon their paws were on her – stroking, pinching and groping. At first it was the bigger, bolder ones, but Nym could see many smaller and younger members of the pack pressing closer, many of the stroking themselves as they contemplated the night to come.
“C’mon, little princess… we got to play with you all night and you gotta play nice, so we might as well get started” Tobias gloated as he led her to a straw mat.
Nymeria expected the coyote to lay her down and mount right away, but he seemed to have other plans as he stretched out on his back, his lean, sinewy body on display as he pushed his sheath down and exposed the entirety of his knotted length. Even though the wolfess knew what he wanted it still took a few of others nudging and pushing until she had a knee on either side of the coyote’s hips. As she lowered her blossoming sex towards the tip of Tobias’ shaft she tried to ignore that part of her that rejoiced at the impending orgy, no matter how humiliating it was sure to prove. She half expected for the coyote to put his hands on her hips and pull her down on his cock, but the sandy-furred canine just grinned and folded his arms behind his back. Nym felt her ears flatten against her skull at the realization that Tobias expected her to do all the work, to ride his twitching shaft and do whatever it takes to get him off.
Swallowing her pride, the wolfess parted her folds and lowered her hips, her tail quivering as the hard, hot length spread her open and began to slide in. A boy, and despite the fact that he was her elder one unworthy of her. But despite the fact his lanky body didn’t excite her the way Byron’s did he was admittedly attractive. A good enough catch for some of the other girls. And Nym had to admit his cock was probably a better fit for her than the old wolf’s. She was old enough that Byron could -with some patience on his part and some wincing on hers- sheathe his entire shaft into her developing sex, but there was still no hope of her taking the huge male’s knot. The boys who were suitably equipped could tie with her but she figured she’d be spared the humiliation tonight. There were a lot of horny youths determined to have a taste of the ‘little princess’ and they would resent anyone taking too long.
She did let the bulb slip in, since it was too early for there to be any risk of it swelling up inside her. She swiveled a little with Tobias buried deep within her, trying not to show just how much her growing body welcomed the throbbing length. She placed her fingertips against the coyote’s chest, leaning forward a little as she slid her cunny off his rod, her hairless folds clinging to the slick cock as she clenched her teeth shut to stifle a moan.
She’d only ever ridden Byron like this since most of the boys preferred to rut her whether she was on all fours or on her back. Nymeria might have been able to pretend that this was her idea, that she was the dominant one taking her pleasure form the male under her if it hadn’t been for the stares and taunts of the watching throng. She tried to shut them out, ignored their claims that she was a slut even as her cunny grew wet with every plunge of the coyote-cock into her body. And she’d done such a good job that she hadn’t even noticed a hand brushing against her tail until the grip tightened around her base.
“What the…” she asked before others moved in to push her down on top of the reclining Tobias. She managed to crane her neck just in time to see the grinning Rory, with one hand yanking her tail up while the other held his shaft.
“Now, now princess, just think about that sword of yours… and not about getting stabbed…” the otter said, getting a laugh from the crowd while Nym tried to puzzle out what he meant. He resented her for embarrassing him moments ago, but surely he didn’t think he could get away with knifing her just because of it?
But the moment she felt a hot hard poke under her tail, the wolfess realized what the grinning otter meant for her. The realization brought no relief, and she actually tried to break free of the hold a few of the older boys had on her, accomplishing nothing but giving the pack something to laugh at. The nerve of the little water rat! He should have waited his turn with her pussy and been thrilled at the chance, but he was actually considering taking her like a boy, and right in front of everyone.
And apparently everyone wanted to see the princess of the pack get buggered! Nym tried to clench up back there but helpful paws grabbed her perky cheeks, spreading them wide and leaving her pucker exposed. The otter just rubbed and ground the head of hic cock against the pink tail-ring, his juices leaking as he contemplated taking the wolfess tail in front of everyone. Gritting her teeth, Nymeria did her best to hold on to this last shred of dignity, but the mess Rory was making under her tail was only making his job easier. She felt her pucker dimple under the pressure, heard the straining otter’s chirp-like grunts until with one thrust he managed to push the head of his slender shaft under her tail.
The little sneak groaned in triumph his webbed paws moving to her fur cheeks as he began to hump against Nym’s rear, forcing himself  deeper as the wolfess winced form the burning sensation caused by the violent invasion of what was until recently her virginal behind. It didn’t take Rory long to sheathe himself in her, and Nymeria was surprised at how girthy the mustelid’s unimpressive shaft felt back there. The otter began to thrust and grind against her speared ass and soon the coyote under them both joined in.
As much as she hated having a cock under her tail, and as much as it burned her pride to have everyone laugh and stare as she was taken as if she was a boy, the shaft stuffed between her cheeks made her feel even fuller and made the coyote-cock slipping in and out of her slit seem more impressive than it really was. She saw Tannith get on all fours in front of her, surprised that the weasel was presenting her slinky body when she wasn’t being forced to. It was no secret that the older girl preferred female affection, and Nymeria was reminded of that as she inched her way back along Tobias body until the compact rump was being pushed against her face. Nymeria tried to move away from the horny female’s slit but some unseen hand grabbed her by the scruff and pushed her muzzle against Tannith’s sloppy sex. Without any way of avoiding it, Nym began to lap at the other girl’s folds, hoping that the moaning weasel wouldn’t push back far enough to swallow her whole muzzle in that dripping slit.
Nym couldn’t really read the other girl’s body enough to know if and how many times she came. She knew that by the time Rory was slapping his hips viciously against her rump her muzzle was already soaked in the weasel’s drippings and her tongue was almost numb after licking and lapping away at the weasel’s slit. She felt the otter sodomizing her collapse on her back, his hips still grinding as the shaft buried under Nym’s sore tail twitched and sprayed mustelid up her thoroughly claimed ass. The little creep seemed loathe to pull his softening cock from her ass even after the last drop had drooled from his tip, and was only pulled off and out of her after Tobias’ had finished and others moved in to claim her.
Unimaginative as always, Bran copied the coyote’s idea and planted Nymeria on his cock, lying back and gripping her hips as he bucked up into her enough to make her bounce on his lap. The fact that he’d made her cum on his canine cock only made Nymeria hate him more, and no sooner had her muzzle opened to cry out in blissful climax than she found a rat grabbing her crest and pushing his cock in her mouth. She guessed he must have been stroking himself off for some time since it didn’t take more than a minute of him fucking her face for the rodent to spray his load down her throat, only for another to take his place.
The young wolfess realized she’d been more exhausted by her fight than shed cared to admit, since it only took about six boys to come in her and two of her own orgasms to make clinging to consciousness difficult. She felt like a rag doll, being passed from one boy to another, being flipped onto her back or sometimes turned the other way round, with her head in someone’s lap and her rear end held up as she was bred.
Nor had Rory been the only one to use her tail hole, especially after the first hour when a lot of the boys felt her cunny was too lose and too messy. A few of them had dipped their fingers in, stretching her as far as they could and letting the mess of the previous boys drool form her rutted slit to prove their point. Everyone had taken at least one turn with her any way they could think of. She’d had cocks shoved into her muzzle and her muzzle pushed into eager slits, had her hands wrapped around twitching shafts even as she was bred, her nipples suckled and nibbled until the boys eventually started spraying their seed all over her and nobody felt like licking someone’s spunk just to get a taste of lupine tits.
They’d left her on her sleeping mat covered in a thing blanket and the cum of every boy and most girls in the pack. She’d awakened just before dawn, wincing as she felt the aches between her legs and under her tail, and the lingering bitterness of seed on her tongue. But her bleary eyes saw her sword resting in its scabbard on a nearby stool, a reminder that she’d allowed herself to be the pack’s whore for a reason. Nymeria reached out and took the blade, holding it close to her the way most girls her age would have done with a doll as she drifted back to sleep.
*******
Nymeria wasn’t surprised that memories of the road to this night rose up even as she did. As her eyes and paws sought and tested handholds, there was little for the conscious mind to do. But she was surprised that her mind was bringing up vivid details of the times she’d had a male on and in her. She had nothing but a loincloth to protect her modesty and she could feel the cool night breeze play across her puffy sex, and could feel just how wet her slit had gotten during the climb.
There was some sort of significance to that latest change in her body that was lost on her. When Byron had noticed it he’d taken one sniff of her and told her that she was in her first heat, that she was a woman now and ready for the undertaking she’d trained for all her childhood. The pronouncement had thrilled her too much for her to ask questions.
She hadn’t sparred with anyone in the pack apart from the old wolf himself for the past year. Instead, Byron would send her out during dark nights, clad in next to nothing to walk the worst parts of the city, exposing her svelte young body to lecherous, amoral and violent males. It was to be her final training, her blooding. She had to do whatever she could to avoid getting raped and left near dead, and her attackers would be the sort that wouldn’t cause her grief and guilt after she did what she had to do. Both her and her blade had been blooded thoroughly, ensuring she wouldn’t hesitate to kill tonight.
She was almost surprised when she ran out of wall, her paw brushing over the edge of the rooftop before she hauled herself up. It didn’t take her long to find the big skylight, large panes of good, pricey glass that let the sun illuminate the throne room during the day, and allowed her to see the flickering of torches now that it was nighttime. Not royal business at this late hour, but rather the king feting his courtiers, judging by the sound of music and conversation. She took a few steadying breaths before inspecting a chimney and finding a brick she could work lose. The climb had only served to limber her up and she could feel her muscles tense and ready for what was to come. The brick flew from her paw and hit the skylight dead on, sending the twisted frame and shards of glass raining down amidst the panicking gentry.
An alarm was raised just before she jumped and grabbed the edge of the now empty frame, swinging to make sure she landed clear of the shards and debris she’d scattered. Let the guards make their way across that. Kaleth had changed little in the fateful decade and she had little trouble recognizing the face of the man who both she and her family had trusted implicitly. She saw the same spark of recognition in his eyes right before her reflexes kicked in and her vision went red.
The guards were taken by surprise, and she was ready. They’d been trained as spearmen, to form ranks and repel heavily armed foes. Woefully unprepared for the small, nimble figure wearing only a few scraps of boiled leather as she made their way among them. She wasn’t sure if it really was the moon shining through the ruined skylight, or the smell of blood spraying through the air and occasionally streaking across her fur that drove her into a killing frenzy. Ultimately, it didn’t matter…
She would make it! Several of the throne-room guards were sprawled on the floor, and reinforcements would need to move against the stream of terrified courtiers fleeing in complete disarray. A few left, blocking her off from the usurper who predictably wasn't cowering. Never mind. She didn't really need him to. She didn't want his repentance, or his apologies, just his blood. The deaths of his men didn't seem to bother the lupine who stood back with his sword drawn and ready. When the last of his guards was down, he'd leveled the blade, leering openly as he regarded Nymeria wearing little apart from a few scraps of leather and the blood of his men.
"Princess Nymeria, is it?" he said, holding the point of his blade steady as Nym circled him, getting some of her breath back as she looked for an opening. "My, how you've grown. The years have been kind to you, I take it?" he asked, not bothering to hide the sneer in his tone as he addressed her as a princess but clearly saw her as something of a whore.
Nymeria's response was a lunge, one that could have bit deep had Kaleth not deflected it in time. In truth, the years had been kind to the usurper as well. He hadn't grown soft sitting on his stolen throne and the tip of his sword was steady as he stood poised to deflect her next strike. He could afford to be patient - it was Nymeria who needed a quick kill. With him dead the crown would pass to her, and only with the crown on her head could she avoid getting a noose around her neck for the men lying dead or dying all around them. And she wasn't the one who was rested. The climb had been a mild exertion, but the fight would take its toll on her stamina once the adrenaline wore off.
"You still look a bit waifish, but you're no child anymore, are you?" Kaleth sneered, and for a moment Nymeria was sure he could somehow tell just how long ago she'd been forced to leave childhood behind, and the things she'd done to stay alive. But as he pointedly sniffed the air, she knew that wasn’t the case. There had been no mother, not even an older sister figure to teach her what exactly her heat was, but she was aware that her sex was slightly swollen, the plump lips of her cunny blushing and moist and that her scent was stronger than usual.
"Is that why you came back? The instinct to mate is powerful, and runs quite deep in our kind..." he said, stepping back in time to miss a potentially disemboweling slash. "I must say, I respect your desire to find a mate worthy of you. Many females in your straits would have lifted their tail and whelped a mongrel..."
Nymeria tried to shut out his words, but they'd made it through. The idea of bedding... that!? Her first thought was that she'd sooner lift her tail for every dockyard porter in the harbor, but necessity demanded she keep her eyes on Kaleth, and in her state she couldn't miss the fact that he was every bit as desirable as Byron. She'd been frustrated that the old wolf had sent her off the moment he'd sniffed her and inspected her swollen sex. She hadn’t said anything, but she'd felt strange reluctance to leave him with her sex almost dripping and his cock sliding out of his sheath. And she was growing frustrated now for all different reasons. Kaleth was unarmored, and she should have had an easy enough time, despite his formidable skills. But it was as if he knew the way she fought, and he had little trouble adjusting to fighting a small, lightning-quick opponent. Soon his deflecting maneuvers were followed by ripostes, and by the time guardsmen began to enter the room he was launching attacks of his own.
"Keep back!" he called out, either confident he could handle Nym himself or worried about the loss of face if people found out he'd needed his guards to help him overpower a girl such as herself.
Nym had known all this time that she'd be facing a master swordsman, but her fighting style should have been so different from typical single combat that Kaleth should have been at a disadvantage. But the larger wolf was now pressing his attack, using both his superior stamina and decades of experience to bear down on Nym. He'd finally caught her on a counter-swing, with the flat of his blade which was little comfort as the length of steel hit the back of Nymeria's sword hand. Her paw went numb from the blow and the noise of her blade clattering to the floor sounded like her death toll.
"You really are good... it's been a while since someone left me winded like this. But you still failed as an assassin."
"Just kill me and be done with it!" Nymeria hissed. She'd envisioned herself either dead or victorious tonight, and wasn't ready to have the hated usurper gloat over her defeat.
"I wouldn't dream of it! I always intended to spare you, and even your mother. Succession concerns, you see. My claim would have been much stronger with her to provide me with heirs. And I'm sure that for the sake of her little girl she would have gladly lifted her tail for me. She'd ruined that plan, but then you came in, reeking of heat..." he said, throwing his sword away as he advanced on her. Nym tried to strike him with her good hand but he'd caught it and yanked her up, almost lifting her off the floor.
"Sire, if you wish we can..." asked one of the guards, or began to before the towering wolf cut him off.
"No, I can handle her well enough..." he said, his tone hinting that the men lying dead had failed to do so. Nymeria wasn't sure what he intended to do with her but when he yanked her loincloth away both dread and understanding dawned on her. "Summon the nobles. I am about to make a decree, and wish my entire court to witness it..." he said, finishing with a growl as one meaty paw tore the fabric she'd bound her breasts with, exposing her young mounds and two nipples, puffy from her heat and stiff from reasons beyond Nymeria's understanding.
The bodies were dragged away even as the nobles began pouring in. They were obviously shocked to see the violent young female now naked and being groped by their ruler, but no one said anything, hoping that the focus wouldn't shift to their treasonously swift egress from their sovereign's side.
"I'm not sure how many of you recongize our intruder. I know for a fact a number of you here had presented yourself to the court on the day she was born..." he said, with a number of the assembled courtiers gasping as they realzied who and what Nymeria was. "...so you know who she is. And you know the penalty for an attempt on the king's life, even a failed one." he finished, and an assenting murmur rose around him. Nymeria almost felt relief. Her plan had failed, she'd never manage to avenge her family, but it looked like she'd be allowed to join them soon enough. There were indeed nobles there who'd presented her parents with gifts on the day of her birth, but the fact that they were still here meant they'd changed loyalties once they saw where the wind was blowing, and were unwilling to be seen as her supporters or worse yet - accomplices.
"But despite the bloodshed she's caused, I'm prepared to show her some measure of mercy. Therefore, by royal decree I claim Nymeria as my lawful concubine. Let her repay the debt to the realm by providing it's ruler with heirs, thus uniting two houses into a single dynasty."
Nymeria was still trying to process what the grinning usurper was implying when the first voices were raised in agreement. It was soon a clamor as the nobles hurried to praise their sovereign's mercy, how generous he was being to this bloodthirsty dervish. The king, of course, could do no wrong, so the cries of approval never faltered even as the hulking lupine dragged Nymeria over to the throne, unlacing his breeches before revealing several hard thick inches.
Nymeria had been resigned to die but she found her breath caught in her throat and her heart beating in wild panic at what Kaleth really had in mind for her. And more to the point she couldn't believe how he seemed intent on going about it! Worse yet, as she fought for breath she realized she could smell it, and that it wasn't air her lungs were hungry for. The sight and smell of Byron had excited her for years back, but this hit her like a male presence never had before. Her muscles, passed the point of exhaustion, weren't responding, making it easy for Kaleth to manipulate her young body, lifting her up as he took his seat.
"Well, look at you princess. Seated on your father's throne, and about to provide the realm with the first royal heir. Wouldn't your parents be happy to see this?" he growled into one ear, low enough for only her to hear. He had one arm wrapped around her chest, the paw groping one of her budding breasts as he used the other to splay her legs.
Some of the nobles failed to completely hide their shock at their king's outrageous behavior while others failed to hide their excitement at seeing the large male part Nym's legs, exposing her rosy, heat-swollen sex to his court. His cock was sliding out further, and Nymeria could feel the heat of the red shaft as her folds rubbed gently against it. She couldn't understand what was going on with her, feeling almost on the cusp of orgasm even though her body was desperate for actual stimulation in order to achieve release. And despite the bizarrely obscene sight taking place before them, the nobles went along with it, because the king could do no wrong.
“Vicious little harlot! She’ll need a stern hand if she’s ever to become fit for palace life…”
“Show some gratitude, girl! You may be straight from the gutter, but that’s a king holding you…”
“Put a few pups in her, that’ll calm her down!”
The cries continued, but Nymeria could no longer focus on them. She couldn’t understand how her body was behaving. She’d been bred too many times for her to count, whether she’d wanted it or not. She wasn’t some idiot girl who froze in fear when someone touched her chest or between her legs. Yet she was in the grip of something strange, something that might not be terror or panic but that had her struggling for breath and unable to move, just the same. And as her folds rubbed against the side of Kaleth’s cock, she couldn’t deny just how badly she wanted him.
“Are you going to be a good little girl for me?” he growled above her, trailing two fingers along her slit and making her gasp just from the touch. Her muzzle remained open and a moment later she felt the now wet digits being rubbed over her tongue. “Mmhhh, that’s a nice muzzle. And when I can trust you not to bite, I am going to enjoy it properly. Taste that, princess? Taste anything different?” he said, withdrawing the fingers and leaving her jaw slack.
“Now, what could have possessed you to come here in the middle of your heat, I wonder? Is it really my blood you were after?” he asked, and despite what might happen Nymeria was about to say ‘yes’. But the wolf holding her had chosen to accentuate his question of a grope of her tender young breast, and to her dismay she wound up moaning loud enough for the sound to carry to everyone in the room. “Or was it maybe my seed? You’re awfully docile now that you feel my cock against that little cunny of yours. You know what I’m going to do to you if you don’t stop me. So why don’t you?”
As he asked her that, the wolf’s hands moved under each of her knees. Despite how much she’d grown, he was taller and stronger than she was, and had little difficulty lifting her hips, maneuvering them until the tip of his girthy lupine cock was aimed squarely at her blushing sex. A part of her, the part that was her for the past decade was screaming for her to do something, to maul or maim the man she still hated above all others. But she did nothing, said nothing as she was lowered just enough for the red tip to pry her folds open, to the cheers of the crowd.
But even the courtiers went mute or gasped in shock when their sovereign suddenly stood up, the violent movement serving to sheathe every last inch of his manhood in the startled wolfess he easily held aloft. But as the king began to buck into her, both the nobles that looked on leering and those that looked because they couldn’t afford to avert their gaze began to cheer him on. Nym barely heard them as for the first time in ages she experienced a shaft big enough to hurt. Kaleth had impaled her, her swollen folds pushing his sheath down and closing just behind the uninflated but still sizable knot before he thrust into her with enough force to lift her off his length.
“Nghh, you’re tight. No wonder you’re so docile… this must be the first decent cock this little cunny of yours ever took…” Kaleth growled, bouncing her up and down as Nymeria’s arms shot out, seeking some sort of leverage during what she suspected would be a violent rutting.
“That’s it girl, let them get a good look at you. Not that it will be the last time. Your mother could have been my queen, the stupid cunt. But not you, my little gutter-whore. You’re going to be my breeding-bitch. I’ll fuck you in front of whoever I like and they’ll still considering me kind and merciful for sparing your life when I could have sent you to the gallows.” He said.
The words sank in, on some level, but Nymeria’s grip on her own mind was slipping. She’d taken plenty of vicious ruttings, and she’d taken the shaft – minus the knot – of a full grown wolf. But this was her first time being mercilessly fucked by a lupine male in his prime. It was also her first time being rutted while in heat, but the significance of this fact was lost on the girl who barely knew what her estrus signified.
Her body knew, though. That was why she felt her toes curling in spite of the pain, her nipples hard as acorns on a pair of firm young teats that bounced with every violent thrust into her. She knew on some level that this was savage, and would have been so even if she were fully grown. Even the noise of the knot slipping in and out of her seemed obscenely loud as the growing bulb pushed some of the juices pooling within her out with every thrust.
“Feel that princess? The way those soft little folds of yours are clinging to me? You may have thought you were an assassin, but you’re just a piece of tail coming for something she desperately needed. And you’re going to get it soon, you little slut, right here and in front of everyone.”
Even though the words were spoken into her ear, Nym could barely hear the male rutting her. She didn’t want this, or at least hadn’t when she’d came here. But now she knew that if the bastard raping her in front of his entire court pulled his shaft from her straining slit, she’d whine and beg for him to put it back. Not that he would pull out, and not for lack of cruelty. But whatever her heat really was, she realized it was having an effect on him as well. She could hear the grunting, growling notes in his voice when he spoke and could feel him picking up speed even though he was already humping into her with everything he had. It was close now. The knot was no longer being tugged from her sex when he pulled back, it was being ripped out, her cunny distending as it failed to hold on to the growing lump. It looked painful but she didn’t feel it as pain anymore, even though she had to stifle a few barking noises. 
The next time Kaleth thrust in she knew in some strange way that this was it. The knot had barely made it past her bruised folds and once it was in she felt her tunnel grip it before the male reversed his thrust. The moment it did Nymeria could feel the massive member throbbing within her, filling her like no male ever had and growing as Kaleth growled above her. The knot mushroomed up with every beat of the lecherous lupine’s heart, swollen past any hope of escaping the escaping the grip she now had on it.
Nymeria had no idea what her cervix was, but as Kaleth continued to make shallow thrusts into her she could feel his tapered tip poking against something, a spot within her that no one had ever reached. The hard length held in her sex then began to throb harder, and she could feel that tip press firmly against that little spot just before the first rope of the older wolf’s seed sprayed from it, claiming her fertile womb even as her climax claimed her.
She could hear Kaleth howl and to her shock she realized she was howling too, her body reading the truth that she was not aware of. She was even now being bred, filled with the seed of a virile and very compatible male, the knot ensuring that every surge of cum flowed directly into her womb. Her head fell and she was amazed at her trim, hard belly showing the hint of a bulge, filled as she was by both the wolf’s cock and the torrent of cum those heavy testes were churning out. Her sex was distended slightly, the rosy lips shiny and wrapped tight around the slim base of the lupine length throbbing within her.
“There’s a good little princess. Your mother would be so proud…” Kaleth rumbled above her before she felt him move.
The wolf had seated himself once again, mounting his throne as he released the limp Nymeria from his grasp. The young wolfess felt herself lurch forward, to weak and dazed to try and catch her balance. She felt a sharp, painful tug and stopped just before falling flat on her face, held up by the knot still buried securely in her violated sex. The king had recovered more quickly than she had, and was calling on the servants to bring wine. Nymeria remained hanging limp between his legs as the room filled with clinking glasses and animated conversation as the courtiers congratulated their king on his choice of royal concubine.

*******
Nymeria heard the tread of heavy boots on the stone floor, a slow and measured gait that meant it wasn’t one of the royal guards. But she remained where she was, and kept doing what she was doing. Off to the side of the throne sat a young (albeit still older than her) goat with her blouse undone as she held two quiescent wolf pups to her ample bosom. Nym’s daughters were nursing contentedly, the sucking noises they were making quiet and heartwarming compared to those their mother was making.
She had milk of her own, but she rarely got to nurse the twins. The king insisted she spend nearly all her time, waking or otherwise at his side. He also didn’t mind relieving her newly swollen breasts of their burden, although he sometimes preferred to squeeze the pert mounds, sending sprays of Nymeria’s mother milk arcing through the air. She was certain he did all this to make sure the girls didn’t see her as their mother. That role would be filled by his proper queen, if he ever took one. He made it pretty clear that the girls, and the child even now growing inside the young wolfess’ womb would be raised to see her ‘as what she really was’. And considering she was even now on her knees without a stick of clothing on, her paws fondling her king and master’s sack as she licked along his shaft, it was clear what her children would one day see her as.
“Well, well… I was wondering when you’d come along to pay your respects…” Kaleth said, his voice ringing in the near-empty throne room. Nymeria continued what she was doing, knowing that the king didn’t mind enjoying her touch even when he was giving an audience.
“I’m a busy man, your Majesty, as you well know.” Came the reply, and Nymeria’s ears perked at the deep, gravely tone. A wolf, she was sure, and maybe even.
“Well, you’ve earned your reward. She was delivered just the way you promised…” Kaleth said in an informal, friendly tone.
“And she’s been well used since then. Haven’t you, my little princess?”
Nymeria froze as the pet-name spoken by that voice removed all doubt. She knew that if she were to turn around she would see the scarred old wolf who’d taken her in after her life fell to pieces. The one who’d trained her to kill the man whose cock she was suckling, the same man he was now having a friendly chat with.
“Why don’t you have a taste of her? For old time’s sake?” Kaleth suggested, and if there had been any doubt left in Nym’s mind the sadistic grin of the usurper would have dispelled it.
“Now there’s an idea…” the voice behind her said, and soon enough Nym felt strong, calloused hands grip her hips and easily pull them up.
The young wolfess kept her muzzle on the king’s shaft as she was left with her legs spread apart, her rear raised and thrust out as she remained bent over Kaleth’s crotch. The paws slid up her sides, cupping her breasts and squeezing hard enough to make a few droplets of milk drip to the floor of the throne room. They slid down again, this time over her belly, curved slightly with the second litter the king had given her. The next thing she felt was the tip of a lupine cock, sliding from her slit to her pucker as it left a wet trail in her fur.
“Life’s big decisions… I’d had that sweet little cunny, even though I always held back. Wouldn’t do to gift the king with anything less than a nice, tight slit.” Byron mused, and even though she was still shocked to realize that her whole life under the old wolf had merely been a ploy, her tail remained flagged up and ha rack arched. They may call her a whore all they liked, but the few moments of escape she had from her shameful existence where those when a hard, hot rod was pumping away inside her, driving her to the heights of passion where sapient thoughts couldn’t reach.
“But there’s something I’ve always wanted to give you, princess, and now I feel like I can…” the old wolf rumbled, and the moment she felt a thumb dig into one of her cheeks and pull it aside she knew what Byron’s choice would be.
Her nostrils flared when she felt the tip his and lightly pierce her ring, and her ears folded back when the much thicker portion of the wolf’s cock followed, forcing her rosebud to strain and wrap taught around the invading length of flesh. Even though Byron had indeed never sodomized her, she’d taken Kaleth under her tail so the sensation of a fully grown lupine male forcing himself between her cheeks was not a new or even unwelcome feeling.
They were bigger than they boys who’d occasionally used her rump all those years ago, big enough to fill her so much that the walls of her sex would actually press together. She knew from experience that this would be enough for her to achieve orgasm, a good thing since she was sure Kaleth would take it amiss if she removed even a single paw from his knot or the heavy sack under it. With his cock securely wedged inside her rear, she felt Byron grab the base of her tail, using it to pull her back just a little as he fed her the rest of his shaft.
The nanny nursing her twins remained where she was, pointedly averting her gaze from what was being done to the mother of the two pups still greedily drinking from her teats. The sounds of their suckling was soon drowned out by both Nym’s efforts as she let Kaleth’s tip slide into her throat, and the meaty slaps of Byron rutting her rear, driving his knot in and out of her straining pucker while it was still small enough to do so.
The pain and friction mixed well, and with the scent and taste of an aroused male filling her Nymeria found it easier to push reality aside and rift of into a realm of simple sensations. She felt the paws roaming her body – the one on her head, fingers buried in the shaggy crest as Kaleth kept her down with her lips against his swollen knot. The firm grip Byron had on her tail as his other paw groped her pert behind even as he violated it without the restraint he’d showed her while ‘training’ her.
She’d climaxed just before the king did, and was still in a daze when she felt the tip erupt down her throat, shooting several ropes of lupine cum before Kaleth yanked her by her hair until the tip slipped out. Even in the haze of her climax, she knew what was expected of her, and she kept the still shooting tip pointed at her face until the fur covering it was soaked.
She’d been sure Byron had missed his chance to drive his knot into her already stuffed behind, but the old wolf made good on his promise not to hold back. He used the grip on her tail to pull her back to meet every thrust, the hard, swollen ball of flesh battering away at her straining tail-hole until with a stab of pain she felt the thing sink between her cheeks. The agony of having her behind knotted so violently didn’t last long, and as the knot grew and twitched she came once again, the twitching go her pucker milking Byron’s cock as the man who’d served her up like a prize seeded her ass. Owning to the tightness of her rear and the sheer size of the monster buried in it, she’d had plenty of time to stroke Kaleth off again. The king forced her to drink down his entire load this time, the knot popping wetly from her behind just as she was allowed to pull her muzzle off the other male’s cock.
The two males resumed chatting once they’d gotten their breath back, not sparing a glance at the young female kneeling at the foot of the throne, reeking of their seed. Nymeria noticed her king never paid attention after he was done suing her, as long as she stayed close. She did so now, letting her eyes wander to the slim blade mounted behind the throne, a trophy hung contemptuously within reach. Her belly was making her slower by the day, and she still wasn’t fully grown yet. And as she grew, the sword seemed more and more within reach, and her king paid so little attention to her once his needs were sated…