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The Guard

By: madengineer3



It has been a long, boring night. In just a little bit the sun will rise.. My squad of men are highly efficient battle tested soldiers. Some might even call us cold and cruel, but I prefer the words deadly efficient. We are on guard duty. It is never a good idea to take duty lightly. We are not going to let people get to our prisoner; and we definitely are not going to sleep on the job. Those who fall asleep on guard duty or let their prisoner escape are never given a second chance. Failure was unthinkable. Death in battle is much more preferable to capture by the enemy, or "discipline" from the general staff. When "disciplined" it sometimes took a man days to die. The condemned man was usually out of his mind before the second day; but they could go on gibbering for up to three days or so. No, we aren't going to fall asleep. No one, and I mean no one, was going to take the prisoner from us. 

Someone has said that a squad of soldiers, like us, could hold off a group many times their size. Our standard approach was to form a square with our backs toward the center, our shields at our front, and our spears in our stronger hand. We don't speak while we're on duty. That way we can hear what is going on around us. A trained group of soldiers would find us difficult to move, and a group of unorganized rabble wouldn't have any chance to move us. Rabble! That seems to be almost all that the fringes of our empire can grow. Well, we won't see them tonight. They know we're here, and they don't know how to move quietly or in a coordinated fashion. Besides that they're having one of their religious days today and by their own rules, they can't do anything that is work. They are so insistent about not working on religious days that our leaders have even decided that they can't be conscripted into the army! They won't fight on a holy day. In our culture we have so many god's and goddesses that it's hard to find a day that isn't a holy day for someone. But that's another matter..... I'd sure like to be at home in our capital tonight. They roll up the streets around here after dark, and they don't have some of the more enjoyable diversions that we have at home. Their wine here is weak, and they don't have temple prostitutes, or many regular ones, like we have at home.

Actually, this duty tonight is extremely strange. If we were protecting an important man, or holding a real prisoner, the duty would make sense. But the man we're guarding has been dead for a couple of days or so. It's not like he was faking death. Before we executed him we beat him up rather well. We even ripped out most of his beard. Then he was whipped. We use a whip of many leather thongs with bits of bone, metal and stones set in or attached to each thong. The local inhabitants here won't give a man more than thirty nine lashes with such a whip because forty is considered deadly. We lost count of how many we used on this guy. You could even see bone through the flesh in some places. He didn't even look human when we were finished. His face, back, and the backs of his arms and legs looked like chopped meat. Maybe that's why he died in such a short period of time. I've never seen a person die like he did. He didn't scream, he didn't plead for mercy, he didn't swear at us. It was most strange. And speaking of strange, I've never seen weather like we had that day. It started out like a normal day, the sun came up, it was hot, dry, and dusty with no wind to speak of. Then, about noon it became very, very dark. I've seen moonless nights with more light than we had. Then, about three o'clock the ground shook very badly and there was a violent storm. Then the sun came out! It's funny, the darkness ended about the same time this man died. Anyway, the tomb in which he's been placed has a string across the stone door and an official wax seal has been put on the string at both ends and on the stone. Whoever breaks a seal or string looses his life! That's the law.

We're here because some of the local religious leaders are afraid that this guy's friends are going to come and try to get his body. It seems that someone said that they heard that this man was going to come to life again. I've got news for them. When we kill someone, they die, and stay dead! There is nobody in the world who knows how to dispense death like we do. You know, those religious leaders are some of the most corrupt people I've had to work with. They put on pious faces in the presence of their countrymen, and then they cheat them in their temple market and then cut deals with us for political advantage. They're trying to work both ends against the middle, and the poor people are in the middle. The regular people hate us, but they seem to be decent, hard working and honest. So what's new? It makes no difference to me, I get paid anyway; and I'm going to retire and go back home in another three years.

We've only had one bit of excitement tonight. Around sunset there was a brilliant flash of light around the tomb. It was brighter than the sun at noon, and only lasted for a brief moment. There was no thunder. It was there and gone like lightning. We went over to the tomb and checked the seals, they were still intact. Nothing seemed disturbed. I've seen stranger things. We think that it must have been some kind of lightning that we're not used to. Still, it left us a bit jumpy for the next hour or two. Ha! maybe one of the gods was bored and decided to see if they could get a rise out of us. As if any of us believed in any god, including our fearless leader back in his comfortable palace.

It will be day soon. The sky to the east is beginning to glow. We'll be relieved by the new watch soon. 

What is that? There's a man standing at the stone door of the tomb. He's wearing clothes that look as bright as it is at noon! And his face is brighter yet. He's looking at us, and doesn't seem at all concerned.

It just dawned on me that I'm watching this from the ground! I can't move, but I've got to stop him ... it's my duty to stop him ...Wait, he just pointed to the stone door and it flew off, up the hill, like it had no weight. I can see the inside of the tomb in the light coming from this man like thing, and the tomb is empty. The body we were guarding is gone, and the door hasn't been opened until now! Maybe that flash of light had something to do with the body being gone.

I now think that maybe I am just as happy that I can't move. What would my weapons do against a man who points to rocks weighing a ton or more and throws them around. Suddenly there is a second man standing next to the one in the brilliant clothes; and the one in those clothes is bowing down with his face to the ground. The man who is standing now is the man we killed!!! Although his wounds are closed up with scars, you can still see what we did to his head, face, hands and feet. He talked briefly with the bright being that opened up the grave. The bright one spoke to him while bowing down to the ground. Then, the bright one disappeared. The man who had been dead is looking at us. Instead of anger there is a look of pity in his face. ... Now he's gone. 

I'm beginning to think that this man Jesus that we'd been guarding wasn't just a man after all. Maybe there is a real God. Maybe He is the Son of God as His followers said. But if He's real, after what we've done to Him, what will He do with us?

The Guard



I work at a resort, in one of the nicest hotels on the strip. Typically day shifts on the desk, I've recently been asked if I can pull a week of nights, which run from 11pm -- 7:30am. I begrudgingly accept because it's good experience, and am assured that there will be no safety concerns as there will be a security guard patrolling the hotel at night during my shift. I show up on time, my dress professional -- a skirt sitting just above the knees of my long legs, and a white button down top fitting nicely over my breasts and stomach, showing my curves but not in an overly obvious way. The security guard shows up close to the same time -- he's younger than I had envisioned, but strong looking and handsome. I shake his hand, and notice that he holds it just moments too long before slowly letting go, and with a steady look, he tells me the frequency of the radio: channel three, so that I can contact him if I need any help with anything. 

The night drones on, and at 3am I can feel myself becoming fuzzy-headed. I move my paperwork into the back office, lock the doors, and forward the phones to my desk in the back. I walk into the small staff kitchen to make coffee, and am surprised to find him sitting at the table. He looks up and smiles -- I return it, and move to the coffee machine, acutely aware that I am being watched. Part of me feels thankful for his presence, and part of me is somewhat uncomfortable. He's meant to be patrolling the area rather than in the back office area with me...a place I have just locked to prevent others from entering or exiting. I can feel his eyes burning into me, and turn my head slightly to verify it...as I turn, my hand knocks the filter off of the counter, and grounds spill all over the place. "Shit," I say under my breath, and quickly crouch down to clean up the mess. I hear his chair scrape across the floor, and quickly, he kneels down beside me, helping to scoop up the mess. "I'm such a clutz sometimes..." I mumble. 

"At least you're a pretty clutz," he responds. I smile, feeling complimented, but at the same time...uncomfortable. He is staring at me so intently, that steady look in his eyes. I feel awkward, and break eye contact by standing up and turning back to the counter. I can feel him staring at me again, but this time closer; he's positioned directly behind me -- I can feel his body heat and his breath on my neck. 

I move to turn and face him, but suddenly his arms come up and pin mine to my sides. My back goes rigid and I can feel his chest against me as he leans in and whispers in my ear. "You know we're all alone back here don't you?" My mind is racing as I consider my options, of which there are few. I can't very well call security, and I've locked out anyone who might be passing through the lobby. In a short violent burst, he shakes me, but his voice is calm. "Answer me," he says. 

I stammer... "Yes." 

"Yes what?" 

Nothing...I have gone speechless. This is perceived as an act of defiance and while he wraps one arm tightly around me, the other comes to my neck -- resting just under my jaw. He turns my head to face him. "Yes, WHAT?" he repeats.

Tears well in my eyes as I watch the scenario play out in my mind. 

"Yes...I know that we're alone back here." 

His hand still resting on my throat...my hands tight at my sides, and the pressure of his body pinning my hips against the counter, he leans down and begins to suck and lick my neck. It's not kissing or affection -- it's more primal...more animalistic. His hands move to find my breasts, which he gropes roughly through my blouse, and I want to scream but am afraid of what he'll do to me if I do. His hands slide down to my waist. With a rough heave he lifts me, carries me to the table, and slams me down onto it face first. The knock sets my head reeling for a moment, but not so much as to pull me from the situation that is quickly unravelling in my place of work. 

Legs hanging off of the table, and a hand planted firmly on my back, he begins to unceremoniously push my skirt up to my waist. My hands move to stop him but he easily collects them and holds them with one of his own in the center of the small of my back. Leaning over me, he hisses into my ear "Do you know what's going to happen now?" 

In a small, choked whisper, I reply. "Yes."

Wedging a foot between my legs, he kicks my feet apart and presses against me. Through my underwear, I can feel his cock pressed hard between my cheeks, and one of his hands has begun to rub me through the thin fabric. I inhale deeply at the intrusion, which elicits a slight snigger from him. Feeling the material being pushed aside, two fingers are suddenly thrust deep into my pussy. I cry out, but the fingers continue to slide in and out of me...a third is introduced, and the speed is increased. Moments later, the guard pulls his hand from between my legs and leans over me -- pressing all of his weight down onto my back, he roughly whispers "If I didn't know any better you little slut, I'd say you were enjoying this." The hand used to violate my pussy reaches up, and he smears it across my face. It is soaking wet and I can feel my face reddening. He runs the fingers along my mouth and tells me to open up, but I refuse. His other hand quickly twists through my hair, and reefing my neck back, he repeats himself...this time in a low growl. "Open your fucking mouth."

Tears of embarrassment and shame streak down my face as I part my lips. His wet fingers push past my teeth and into the back of my mouth, causing me to cough and gag on them. I can taste my arousal and close my eyes. "Taste that you little bitch..." he hisses into my ear, "...you fucking love it."

I can hear him releasing the buckle of his belt, and the quick snap of it being pulled through the loops. The popping sound of a button followed by the sound of a zipper being lowered cause me to thrash wildly, but uselessly. I can slowly feel my strength being sapped away by my futile struggle -- he holds me fast and I hear him chuckle at my attempt to break free. 

Suddenly I feel pain as he takes a fistful of my hair and pulls my head back. I can feel smooth, worn leather sliding around my neck as he fashions a makeshift choke chain for me. His elbows dig into my back as he feeds one end through the buckle and cinches it tightly. I can feel his fist pressed down on the back of my neck, maintaining a steady pressure...just enough slack for me to breath, but barely. 

"Let me explain your situation to you," he begins. "I can feel how fucking wet your pussy is, and I know how turned on you are right now. I'm going to fuck you so hard that you'll want to scream...but if you do, you'll be making the biggest mistake of your life. Do you understand?" 

I let out a hoarse whisper of acknowledgement. 

"Good. Now beg me to fuck you."

I can feel my arousal soaking into my panties, and I hate myself for it. Barely audible, I ask him.

"Please fuck me."

"Again," he commands. 

"Please fuck me."

"Louder you little slut!"

"PLEASE....fuck me," I say...as loudly as I am able in my constraint. 

"That's a good bitch." 

His fingers hook the waist band of my underwear, and he yanks them down hard -- leaving them stretched and cutting into my legs at mid-thigh. I feel his cock pressed up to the opening of my pussy. He slides it between my legs and gets it wet before roughly shoving it deep inside me. I gasp uncontrollably, and begin to cry out but feel the belt tighten and a hand come down hard on my left ass cheek. "I'm warning you little bitch...not a fucking sound."

With one hand on my hip and the other still clenched close to my neck, he drives his cock into me relentlessly...the same hard, fast, pace...and every time he pushes his whole length inside, it is everything I can do to keep from screaming out. With every thrust I can feel my arousal heightening, and my fingers curl around the lip of the table to steady myself as I feel myself getting off. He feels me climaxing, my cum dripping down the shaft of his dick and onto the crotch of my stretched panties. He fucks me harder and harder and within minutes I can feel his legs stiffen. His breathing intensifies, and grunting, he fills my pussy with sticky, warm ejaculate. 

He pulls his cock out and I can feel the pressure release, and then vanish from my neck. He does up his pants and I can hear him re-threading and buckling his belt. I slowly push myself away from the table and hesitantly turn to look at him. 

"Remember, channel three if you need anything at all sweetheart," he says with a grin, patting his radio as he leaves the room.



The Guardian



In the city of Severn, a cloud of fear hovers over every living creature, and the ability of making it through the day are desired by all who are innocent. There is one being who lives in the shadows that stands up to protect those who are innocent. A celestial being, half human, half bird, commonly referred to as an angel, but better known around the neighborhood as The Guardian. His name is Chadrick Karson. During the day, he walks the streets of Severn as a homeless man, finding recyclables to put into his shopping cart he pushes around. By night, he removes the restraints from under his jacket that keep his wings wrapped around his body, spreads them wide, and flies into the night sky, patrolling the streets with his watchful, expressionless eyes.

Since the night his father was kidnapped and murdered, there is a failure that he has had to live with for the past three years. His failure to save his father haunts him whenever he closes his eyes. Since that night, all that remains on his face is a cold, hard expression. He lost his smile that night.

Dropped from the sky and onto the doorstep of a widowed farmer named Alan Karson, Chadrick learned a great deal from his new father. Lessons about life and love resulting in this extraordinary creature who stands for honesty, integrity, and decency, but with a secret darkness that's pacing inside him like a lion in his cage.

There is a craving inside of him that needs to be satisfied. It's a thirst for lust; the desire for, rough, sweaty, passionate animalistic sex with someone who was just as hungry as he is. He wants it. He wants it real bad. Whatever action he takes, he does it with the right intentions and not his own selfish one, but still, he wants it bad, he wants it real bad. 

Soaring through the sky with the cool breeze rushing across his face, the wind whirling under his wings, he scans the streets for anything that is disturbing the peace. Although sometimes when he is flying through the sky, he loses his focus. Flying is his ecstasy. It was something he could get enough of. No matter how much life wreaks havoc on his soul, he clears his mind, clears all of his thoughts and becomes completely weightless when he is in the only place the feels like home, the sky. 

As he ascends higher and higher towards the heavens, his nirvana abruptly shatters as he hears the shriek from a woman below. Chadrick curtails his wings and pierces the sky as he shoots down towards the street like a bullet. Slowing down to assess the situation, he flies high above the woman and what looks to be a mugger, and notices them both run into a dark alley. 

He peers down at them both and matches their pace until he sees the hand of that mugger wrap around the neck of that woman. He drops from the sky, landing softly and gracefully onto the ground, and tears the mugger off of her. He pulls the mugger's forearm into his body, exposing his forearm to him, and drives his elbow on top of it, shattering both the ulna and the radius, then tosses him aside.

After a few minutes of rolling and writhing in pain, the mugger got to his feet and ran away, leaving Chadrick and an angelic blonde beauty, fixated on each others' eyes.

The woman walks towards Chadrick hesitantly. Taking her time with each step as if she's assessing the pros and cons of every step that draws her nearer to him. Sensing her fear, he tilts his head, trying to reaffix his dark brown eyes with her soft blue ones. 

He asks her, "What is you name?" 

"Anya" she whispers softly. "And yours?" 

"Chadrick," he says back.

"Chadrick" she says under her breath, smiling.

Anya wraps her arms around his neck and whispers in his ear, "Please take me home". 

Chadrick slides his arms behind her back and beneath her knees, holding her close against his broad chest. 

"Hold on," he says, as he gazes deep into her eyes.

As he expands his wings, he beats them vigorously, creating a powerful WOOSH under his wings like a sword piercing the air. Carrying Anya off into the clear night sky, he feels her grip grow tighter and tighter the higher he lifts her up. Once steadying himself, she loosens her grip and grows more comfortable in his arms while nuzzling his neck and twirling the hair on the back of his head as they both weave through the clear night sky. Chadrick peers down over Anya unsuspectingly, as he begins to feel the muscles in his cheeks about to pull his lips, as if wanting to crack a smile, but it stops just moments after it begins to start. 

Flying high through the sky, through the cool, calm night, the stars sparkling bright over them both, Chadrick cradles her close to him. She stares at him in wonder. Asking herself over and over again, How could this possibly be real? The both slowly begin to descend onto the balcony of Anya's condo suite outside of her bedroom. He plants both feet on her balcony floor and slowly lowers her down until her feet touch the floor as well. They both gaze into each other's eyes as he begins to back away from her. He feels her fingers graze across his arm until he is out of her reach. Chadrick quickly turns around and he leaps onto the balcony railing about to leap into the sky and leave until he feels her soft slender hands on his wrist. 

"Please don't go," she says softly. She takes his hand with of hers and guides him into her bedroom. 

Anya runs her fingers over his bare chest and whispers, "I want to thank you for rescuing me." 

"You are very welcome, I am here to serve and protect you all" Chadrick says. 

"And it is my duty to thank my hero," Anya replies with a grin.

Inching up towards him, getting on her tip toes, she softly kisses his lower lip, sliding her tongue inside his mouth, wrapping her arms around his neck. Chadrick, resting his hands across her hips, gently rolls his tongue around hers, pulling Anya close against him, rubbing his chest up against her breasts as they both get lost in each other's embrace. She responds by sucking softly on Chadrick's tongue as he lovingly kisses her upper lip. Seconds turn to minutes, and minutes turn into more minutes, both of them wanting more with each passing second. Their hungers are insatiable. Suddenly heopens his eyelids and reveals the blaze in his deep brown eyes. This is his woman he's been waiting for.

Wrapping his fingers around Anya's shoulders, He pushes her against the wall. She whimpers softly as their lips break apart. Chadrick gazes back at her fanatical eyes and immediately presses his body against to hers. He tucks her silky red hair behind her ear with his right hand and catches a glimpse of her warm hazelnut eyes. Parting his lips, he leans in closer and closer and closer until his lips finally touch hers once more. 

Chadrick kisses her harder and deeper with each passing second. Extending his tongue from his mouth, he slides it across her lips and into her mouth, searching for her tongue. Anya moans as she feels it swirl around hers, kissing him back just as hard.

For so long he has had to control his urges to be the honorable hero that his parents raised him to be. To be someone who stands for honesty, integrity and decency. He has not failed to be that kind of man yet, and he isn't going to tonight. He has saved many lives, several of them have been women, but none have exhibited the confidence and courage that Anya did tonight. Also, he just knew this was right. He had the ability to look into the eyes of a man or a beast and just know how he or she or it was feeling. Every chance he got, he looked deep into those twinkling brown eyes of hers and knew that this was right and nothing in the world can ever make this wrong.

Chadrick picks up Anya and knocks her against the wall pinning her there. They both keep kissing, neither wanting their lips to part from one anothers'. Anya wraps her legs around his waist and tangles her fingers in his hair, gripping it tightly as they kiss. He presses his bare chest against Anya's covered breasts. He frantically pulls the straps of her dress down her shoulders. Anya worms her body against him and the wall to let her dress fall to her waist, never letting her lips break away from his. He growls over her lips as he feels her warm skin pressing against his, her hard nipples grazing against his chest, sending shivers throughout his body, making tongue move with more desperation inside Anya's mouth, their kisses becoming deeper, more passionate. He loves this, but he wants more.

Chadrick quickly breaks the kiss and lifts Anya onto his shoulders. They both anxiously take her panties off. He slides both hands over her smooth round ass, squeezes firmly, and lifts her up. Anya then pushes her panties down her legs with ease and tosses them away. He pulls her back down on his shoulders. He waits a moment and takes in her scent. Her scent causes him to salivate and make his mind go wild. He's always a patient man throughout his life in every situation that called for it. This didn't. Chadrick pulls Anya to his face. He dives his tongue between her lips, flicking his tongue along her slit. He swirls and darts his tongue all around her folds, making his tongue slither deeper and deeper in her, loving the way she tastes, hungrily lapping up her juices. Anya shivers, writhes, and moans in pleasure over him. She softly crosses her legs behind Chadrick's neck, keeping him where he is.

Slowing down, Chadrick loosens his grip and Anya responds the same way. He holds her hips as she lowers down to the ground. Immediately after Anya's feet touch the ground, she tip toes up to him to kiss him once more. As they kiss, Anya pulls him to the middle of the room. She softly presses her lips over his lower lip, softly moaning into his mouth. She then moves down to the soft carpeting of the bedroom floor. Chadrick follows, not wanting to separate from her for one moment. He unbuckles his belt, unbuttons his pants and begins pushing them down legs. Anya reaches down to push his pants down as well. Their kisses begin to grow faster, deeper, hungrier, as the two anxiously await to become one. 

Chadrick kicks his pants away, finally freeing himself from the restraints. He shifts his hips and softly grazes the tip of his cock over her throbbing pussy lips. He raises his head and breaks the kiss, letting out a soft grunt. Anya moans as she feels him rub against her. Chadrick gazes into her eyes, watching them twinkle as she looks into his blazing brown irises. She knows what he wants and that he can't wait any longer. 

Chadrick reaches up and grabs hold of her slightly moist brown hair. The heat grows between them. He grips Anya's hair tightly, never looking away from her eyes, he slams his cock into her in one quick motion, pushing past her folds and burying himself deep inside of her. Anya arches her back and lets out a loud moan, almost a scream, as feels his hips smack into hers and every inch of his cock deep inside her. He moves back slowly until the tip alone is in her, and then slams into her again, another hard grunt forcing its way out of Chadrick and a louder cry from Anya. He begins moving back and forth, faster and faster. He moves his hands up and down her body, running it up her stomach and over her breasts, squeezing them as he thrusts harder and deeper. This is the moment he's been waiting for for far too long. Now it's time to take her to the place where he calls home. 

Moving his hips slower and slowly, Chadrick wraps his arms around Anya. 

Anya looks up at him as he whispers over her lips, "Hold on."

She reaches up and grabs onto his neck and wraps her legs around his waist tightly, keeping his cock inside her. Chadrick stretches his wings, flaps them hard, and flies out the door with Anya and into the sky. He looks down at her and she returns a smile to him. Anya knew that she was safe in his arms. They both soar into the black velvet sky as Chadrick begins moving his hips once again.

"Yes!" Anya moans out to him, and that was enough to light a fuse Chadrick didn't know he had. As he holds Anya under him, he all of sudden flips them both over, now Anya on top and Chadrick on the bottom. She puts her hands on his chest and begins to ride his cock. Chadrick slides his hand up his legs and over her her ass. He rubs it round and around softly before raising it up and swiftly planting the palm of his hand onto her soft flesh. 

"OH!" she cries as she felt his hand smack. She looks down at him with her startled eyes. She didn't know he had that in him. Chadrick looks back up at her. He bends up and takes a nipple into his mouth. He teases it between his teeth, flicking his tongue over her nipple. Again, she feels another smack land on her ass, making her bounce on his cock faster. Chadrick responds to her by thrusting up to meet her hips. Never stopping, it was one hand, then the other, one cheek, then the other. His mouth, his hands, his cock. They were all simultaneously driving her wild. Where did this come from Anya wondered. But she didn't care. She loved it. She didn't want him to stop.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" she screams into the sky.

Flying over streets and homes, parks and playground, downtown Severn, zig-zagging past skyscrapers all around the them, Chadrick knew it was time to turn back. He carries Anya out to the ocean as he continues moves his hips relentlessly, feeling Anya squeezing him tight inside her. She was close and so was he. As his grunts started turning into groans and her whimpers started turning into moans, the both arch their backs violently as they climax with each other. Anya collapses over Chadrick but he collapses as well. His wings stop moving and they begin to tailspin. Quickly he composes himself and gets back into control, flapping his wings furiously and holding her tightly as they both fly back high into the sky. 

Anya looks up at Chadrick and sees him looking down at her, both gasping, but she still the only one of the two smiling. As they near her home, they both engage each other softly with a sweet, sensual embrace under the stars, soft kiss over each other's lips as they descend lower and lower onto the balcony below. He lands softly on the balcony floor lets her go slowly until her feet are on the floor as well. They both part without words. He puts on his pants and looks at Anya one last time. Chadrick brushes the hair away from her glowing face and tucks it behind her ear. She takes his hand and smiles up him, he just stares. It was time for him to go. He walks away, not wanting to let go. His grip was tight, but loose enough to let her fingers slip from his grasp. He hops up onto the balcony railing, takes one more look back at her, and then jumps into the sky, leaving Anya standing there to watch him leave. He flies high to the stars and after being out of sight, Anya walks into her bedroom, not realizing that she cracked a small, warm grin on his face at this very moment.



The Guardian



There are moments, when ones desires need to be restricted, in order to become focused. Cleared of all irrelevance, in a fleeting state of purity, one can find pleasure of utmost proportions.

Codes: F/m, slow, reluctant, humiliation

Chapter One

Nurturing

She slowly undid another shirt button, feigning a playful indifference, as if it was to merely relieve her of pent up heat. But she knew of the effect her décolleté would have on the young man curled up next to her.

"And there will be times, when I will punish you."

He looked at her with his clear brown eyes, and she could see in his expression that he was uncomfortable with what she just said. She met his inquiring look with her own matronly stare.

"Yes R. I'm going to discipline you. Pain is an essential part in our life. Why do you think we evolved the way we did? Through pain we are reminded of our weakness. But shouldn't we also be encouraged by its potential to correct? I firmly believe punishment is a crucial element in the upbringing of any male. So I'm going to right you, when you are lost. Consider this as a form of maternal guidance."

She waited, knowing this was hard for him to swallow. And when he was about to reply, she continued.

"I told you earlier, that I've always desired to be a mother myself when I was young. Maybe the Lord thought I wasn't ready then." She paused for a moment, overcome with emotions. "Anyway it didn't happen. I never became pregnant. But over time I was able to accept, that this might be his plan for me to fulfill my maternal duties elsewhere. Through his guidance I became involved in community service and discovered my passion for working with needy youngsters. Helping hapless boys gave me a renewed purpose in life. I'm only doing his bidding. But you know that already, do you?"

R. nodded silently. He felt irritated by her speaking of him as merely a boy. It was belittling, making him feel immature, which of course he was, when he considered their difference in age. And he felt uncomfortable about her speaking of punishment.

"As it comes with age, you have a clearer view on things in life, consequently I know that punishment alone is not enough for boys, it has to be accompanied by love and affection. And you know how much I care about you."

R. wanted to tell her, but she silenced his effort by placing a finger on his mouth. Her gesture again stirred varied emotions in him. The softness of her touch made him longing for more, but her words caused concern.

"It gives me great comfort, that you too wished for me to be your governess." She paused briefly and added "... even though I would rather describe my custody as guiding counselor. I will be demanding at times. You will sometimes think that I ask too much of you. But you must never fear me, as my purpose is to support, and if you so choose, to be your companion. I will honor your trust with commitment and love, to provide you with guidelines until you are ready to embark on our own."

She could clearly detect anxiety in his eyes and contrary to her words she enjoyed the obvious apprehension in his face.

"I know people talk about me, when they see me do my work with vigor. I sense the gossip behind my back; can trace the uneasiness in their expressions, when they try to influence my work with half-hearted advice. I have been called a lot of things in my life." Again she waited, observing him, as if she was able to read his thoughts before continuing „How do people call me behind my back, R.?"

He could not answer. Part of him found it inappropriate to tell her what he heard - they called her a dominant, unyielding, sadistic bitch -, but the larger reason was his unwillingness to acknowledge, that there might be some truth in those observations, and the simple fact that she was now his guardian. R. averted his eyes. He could not meet her questioning glance and decided to remain silent.

She continued. "But you know R.; I am able to bear the burden when people misjudge me. Since these are only their own projections, their own anxieties, their own insecurities transferred on me, I'm willing to endure them. See, there is pain everywhere. I promise you, there will not be any vagueness in our relationship."

R. didn't like where this was going. There was no underlying eroticism anymore. He had thought their intimate cuddling in this small bedroom after the incident earlier, would lead to something. He didn't really know what he was hoping for, but it sure felt nice. He had been enchanted by her. She radiated so much femininity. She had weakened his renewed resolve just as easily, as she had given him comfort in his trauma. But the lewd sexual tension her mature sensuality had stirred in him, troubled him the most. He was a still tense when he finally looked at her.

She had seen it all along, known it from the beginning. It's all been so easy. He was so eager to please. So eager to make a good impression and yet so easily manipulated. She relished the tension. She kept looking into his eyes until he lowered them, torn in ambivalence, between his obvious desire for her and his natural shyness. She observed his glance slowly moving down her neck, and again trying to secretly peek at her bosom.

They had both stretched out comfortably on his bed. R. simply couldn't stop glancing at her large breasts, while she relaxed by his side. She wore a delicately designed brassiere underneath her shirt, which still covered most of her voluptuous décolleté. John could almost anticipate the hidden treasures behind the decorative design and swallowed uncomfortably, once again overcome by the prickling feeling caused by her intimacy. Time seemed to have come to a stop. She didn't say anything for a while. She smelled nice; mature, saturated womanly, a very different kind of smell, compared to the young girls R. has met. There was glowing warmth radiating from her body.

She savored his youthful arousal, his obvious interest in her caused by their sudden intimacy. Again she waited, watching him as he tried to shift his position to conceal his growing excitement underneath his pajama. She had been delighted earlier to discover the small wet spot in his nether region, so obviously caused by fluid leaking from his craving member. She preferred male who could not hide their emotions, that's why they had be young, more likely to accept her rule.

All the while, during their one-sided conversation, she had - little by little - opened most of the buttons on her shirt. Her brassiere was now almost fully visible to his longing eyes. As she undid the last button, part of the shirt opened up, revealing an exquisitely embroidered bra. His eyes greedily took pleasure in her revelation, piercing the fine material for the mysteries beneath it. She always liked the effect her ample bosom had on men. She made a mocking sound. R.'s face immediately colored, as he had unsuccessfully tried to hide his voyeurism.

"You do realize, what you just did, was very rude. It is demeaning for a woman to be stared at in such an intrusive manner. You are indeed a naughty boy!"

"I'm sorry." he mumbled ashamed by her directness.

"But it is unavoidable for us to share some intimacy, since you now live in my house. You are a good natured child. But there are certain adjustments to be made, bad manners to be corrected, odd habits to be broken..." she paused for effect "but as I've told you before, I will guide you and as long as you are willing to follow my advice, there is nothing to be feared. I know we both have to give up some of our privacy, which might not be easy at the beginning, but I am confident we will work it out."

R. felt trapped between his blooming desire and his shyness, which he found incompatible with his urges, and hence hated himself for his inability to not better conceal them. She on the other hand enjoyed the moment and took pleasure in his obvious embarrassment.

Again he could not bring himself to look at her, even has he felt her judging gaze on him; once more time seemed to have stopped, as he tried not to openly peek at her breasts. How could he control his desire to look? Their closeness was nearly unbearable for him. She sensed his conflict and softly touched his hair, caressed it playfully and murmured a barely audible "Relax." Her sudden touch was electrifying. He immediately felt goose bumps crawling up his neck and shivers running through his youthful body. His member twitched, again he had to shift, to hide and accommodate the growing tumescence in his nether region.

After some shared silence, she opened a small clip on her bra. It has been exclusively designed to resemble a nursing brassiere and yet to conceal this very function to the tempted male stare. Driven by its own weight her large white breast uncovered just in front of R.s face. She had big brownish areolas, which protruded her breasts and a swollen nipple bulged in the center. She could feel the warmth of R.s breath on her skin as he coyly exhaled, to hide his excitement. This caused her areola to be more textured than the surrounding lighter skin. Small wrinkles occurred close to her nipple, making it stand out even more prominent. Eventually, triggered by the sudden temptation, R. overcame his inhibitions and subconsciously took the now revealed treasure in his mouth.

"It's always so easy to manipulate a man's archaic instinct" she giggled inwardly, although she always had varied feelings about her large breasts. She found them to be a mixed blessing, annoying at times because of their size, but undeniable a practical benefit to lure men. But they weren't easy to stimulate, especially when men would rudely grab them. She preferred to train males first, before allowing them intimacy. Of course she would never openly put it that way. She would only encourage and guide. Once you have established a subtle dominance on the male's longings, it's easy to restrict, deny and ultimately enforce enthusiastic adoration. From the perspective of a grown woman, who already knew her fleshy desires, she wouldn't consider the breasts part of her favorite erogenous zones. Her hotspots on the contrary, assuming she was in the mood and were stimulated to accommodate her rather peculiar preferences on that subject, could reveal her volcanic sex drive and vulgar lasciviousness.

Consequently she used her ample breasts as mere tools to manipulate men, to expose the comforting bondage between the sexes through nurturing, yet to stir the underlying sexual hunger and desire for more, but then to conquer in the end. Only through dominance she was able to achieve true satisfaction. Wearing this nursing brassiere was part of her play. She knew that by not completely revealing her breast to the male, she kept even the act of revelation limited to her own bidding. It was to allude primarily nurturing. The clip brassiere's chosen functionality emphasized for one thing on her maternal role of giving. But she also wanted the hierarchical dimension reinforced. The practical design should suggest certain indifference, as if it was to reduce something burdensome for her, like the mere milk secreting function of a mother nursing her infant. She could take them away just as quickly. Believing that the mind is the most erogenous zone, she always tried to engage her vis-à-vis. She didn't want the male to simply undress her. It was the game of hide and seek, that gave her thrills.

She watched R. while he clumsily sucked her right breast. The anxiety in his face was now replaced by an expression of comfort and arousal. He had instinctively closed his eyes, while he nursed on her bosom. She caressed his head, and by her gentle touch he relaxed even more. Eventually she pushed her forefinger into R.'s mouth, functionally, as a mother would do to interrupt her hungry baby from feasting on her breast. It broke the spell she had on him. He opened his eyes and looked at her in a mixture of embarrassment and open desire. The plump nipple had dropped from his mouth. It was covered with clear liquid from his fondling.

"Are you feeling better now?"

He nodded meekly.

"You are a wicked child" she said in a sultry voice, deliberately reducing his male ego. "Do you think it's appropriate for you, to fondle your caretaker's breast?" she continued playfully.

His cheeks colored slightly as he tensed on her probing look, not knowing what to make of her last comment. R. was in a foggy state of arousal where reason was clouded out by pheromones. Overcome with cravings for more intimacy, he finally had been able to forget the day's unpleasant event. He wanted this to last at least a little longer. But to his disappointment she sensually clipped away her breast, again hiding her womanly bosom from his longing eyes.

"Did I just make you feel good?"

He nodded, unwilling to engage his own voice, fearing it wouldn't come out right. She continued her teasing.

"I can see it did. I want you to know, that a certain intimacy will be part of our relationship. But remember what I told your earlier, it has to be on my terms."

Now she was going to elevate their connection to the next level. She sensed he was properly set up, already caught in her sensory web of control.

"I cannot have you feast on my bosom like a hungry baby. There is no milk to be drained, to relieve excess pressure in my milk ducts, which would certainly result from constant nursing, and would perhaps outdo the forceful sucking pressure you just applied on my breast."

R. felt like a schoolboy, who was scolded by his teacher. "It must be the way she talks" he thought, trying to comprehend what she said. "Or was it her choice of words, her tone, or her attitude." His ego was split between fear and revolt.

Once more she maternally caressed his hair, thus inducing another rush of sensual stimulus, preparing him for her next words, again clouding his male ego.

"You see R., from now on, before you are allowed to calm yourself on my breast, I want you to be in a more receiving position. And you will never again touch my breasts without my prior consent." Her voice had not changed while she reprimanded him, but he immediately felt the threatening implication.

"I want you to look at me now," she whispered comfortingly.

He was somehow relieved by her willingness to guide him; although embarrassed by the fact that he had sucked on her breast like a little child. Yet never in his life had he felt such enormous arousal and desire. It was almost maddening for him. R. looked at her and was suddenly mesmerized by her mature beauty. She had stunning facial features. The well-shaped eyebrows accentuated her intellectual appearance; the nose was straight and lively. Her initial red hair had darkened into a more brownish color, losing some of its vividness. She preferred to wear it in a plain style, parted from forehead to crown, and drawn smoothly back to a chignon at the nape of her strong graceful neck. She had released it from its usual confinement, and it was flowing freely, curling up slightly at the ends. But it was her gray eyes, which had an almost hypnotic effect on him. Suddenly it seemed natural to look at her.

"Good boy."

Just when he felt his male conscience strengthen, she reminded him of his insecurity.

"You do respect me R., do you?"

"Yes of course ma'am," again disliking the croaked way it had come out. 

"I want you to express your respect."

He looked at her puzzled, not knowing what she meant.

"As you have seen, my earlier words about love and caring had meaning, just as my resolve to correct. Since I have opened myself to you, I find it appropriate for you to do the same. Whenever there is going to be some emotional bonding between us, as a token of respect, you will assume a posture of gratitude."

His eyes widened, while his cheeks colored considerably. R. felt insecure about his body. It was the combination of unanswered sexual curiosity due to his old-fashioned upbringing, and the sensed scrutiny in the eyes of a mature woman, that reinforced his feeling of physical inadequacy.

So turn on your back now."

She waited for him to comply.

R. slowly turned on his back, still looking at her. She was surprised by his willingness to keep eye contact. It was in itself a form of subjection. He stretched out, but didn't quite know what to make of his arms.

"You can grasp your thighs with your hands by your side" she instructed, again indicating guidance, and relieving him of what otherwise would have been a clumsy movement. His earlier excitement was once again replaced by tension, when he realized she was deliberately observing his body from head to toes. When she had indicated earlier, that it was time for him to get a good night's rest, and would accompany him to his room, he had put on the pajama without any thoughts. But now he felt immature because of it. And then he realized, mortified, that his excitement would now be clearly open to her scrutiny. He was blushing with embarrassment, averting his eyes once more.

"Don't avert your eyes. You are not finished yet." She slid slightly closer to him, and was now towering him through their different postures. She saw his glowing checks, felt his constrained breathing, his forced awareness to look at her, and eased his nervousness again through her simple touch.

"How can a woman's touch cause so much pleasure, why am I not able to control myself?" his inner self seemed to shout, trying to regain some control over his emotions.

She was toying with him, her own arousal gradually increasing. Dominance was her greatest aphrodisiac, and thus her scent changed, releasing that predatory aura she so much relished. His physical reaction to the ever so slight change in atmosphere was instantaneous. He literally smelled it. It was a new odor to his young senses, intimidating, damp, and yet strangely arousing, as her nearness again took control of his emotions.

"Now spread your legs gently, but keep your soles together."

He complied slowly.

"Yes, that's very good. Go on, I tell you when to stop. And R. please," she had again reduced her voice to a whisper. "Do not avert your eyes. I want you to feel confident about yourself in this position."

She observed him, as he opened his legs, while continuing to lovingly stroke his head. Only her soft touch made it possible for R. to comply. He hungered for affection.

"This will be your posture to express gratitude and readiness to receive attention. You are such an attractive, good mannered lad. I will honor your willingness to conduct yourself admirably. There are only a few minor flaws to correct and I will clarify them to you. Are you willing to learn?"

"Yes!" he replied eagerly. It felt good to be praised. He felt joy that she spoke approvingly of him.

"Again, I want you to be at ease. In the future, if you may wish me to help you calm yourself, you have to repeat what we just did, to recline on your back and keep your hands by your sides. You will always look directly in my eyes. Not averting or closing them. Then as a gesture of your willingness to conceive my affection, you will spread your legs v-shaped until your soles touch. Since we now have already shared considerable intimacy, it should only be natural for you to open your legs in a devote manner. You will only and I repeat only in this position cherish my breast."

The prospect of receiving her breast again, exited him immensely and could easily be observed by the painful rigidity between his widened legs. Because of her instructions to lie back, his pajama luckily stretched above his groin, somewhat concealing the swollen maleness, preventing another situation of indignity, at least for the moment. However he found his posture to be unnatural, contradicting his usual instinct to curl up, and even though his arousal blocked out most of his rationality, demeaning.




The Guardian



She observed his posture, the way she had objectified him, and felt a rush of carnal euphoria building up in her. She had to restrain herself; her arousal to dominate him even further had to be subdued, it would only break the cautiously established trust between them. She had to wait. It has never been easy for her to restrain her sexuality, once it was unleashed. It has been far too long, since her last release. She had to at least visually cherish the mastery of her game. Anger started to mix with frustration and she became tense. Even though she had reduced his ego, played with his juvenile emotions, he was still a grown male. She had to be careful.

His eyes were still on her, when she had regained her composure. His face was flushed with arousal, his breathing constricted. Because of his posture, she couldn't make out the hidden excitement between his legs, but kept observing his groin, just to make him feel uneasy. But then she saw the immediate insecurity it caused, and decided to ease his tension, to let him calm down a little. She sensually stimulated his senses, stroking his hair, rubbing his neck, engaging him to her warm mature closeness.

"It must have been a difficult day for you. You are still very tense. Do you want my help to ease your tension?"

He nodded. His eyes now solely focused on her.

"You have to say so, R."

R. didn't know what to say. He just wanted her to continue. Her soft touch excited him immensely. She observed his struggle, and continued to toy with his emotions with her experienced hand, waiting for him to respond.

"Please." He softly stated.

"It is important for our relationship to be specific about our intentions. Intimacy requires trust. So R., tell me with our own words, what you want me to do."

He couldn't. It was too much for him. Even his excitement wasn't strong enough to overcome his shyness, his embarrassment to ask for her breast. She could see it. She had to scale back on her desire to dominate and help him. There was enough time for her, no need to rush to play with her new pet, to train him.

"I will help you to calm yourself this time without your asking. But you have to promise me, that you will do so in the future."

He was immensely relieved; it was nice of her to not pressure him. He looked at her beautiful face. There was a playful smile on her lips. He could feel his arousal again shadowing his anxiety; he nodded, signaling his consent to her demand which would later come to haunt him.

"Open your mouth."

He did. She gently touched his lips with her forefinger, moving along them in a soft and exploring manner, and then slowly pushing it into his mouth. Her ministrations caused another rush of excitement flowing through his body. He intuitively spread his legs even further, just to be sure to conceal his lustful thickness. She told him to suck tenderly, which he did. She told him to imagine sucking her breast to help him calm himself, but to do so as gentle as possible. She saw his impulse to close his eyes and allowed it. R. imagined her plump nipple and tried his best to show his affection. She watched him as he lovingly sucked, nibbled, even kissed her finger. Then she opened her brassiere again, revealing her soft, warm and by now aroused breast to him.

"Open your eyes, R."

He did.

"Now be as gentle with my breast, as you just were with my finger. Look at me, when I feed you my breast. Can you do that?" she asked softly. It was important to establish the subtle dominance. He had to do it, she would insist. But R. was overflowing with desire; eager to comply with her request, his eyes pleading, filled with lust. She smiled at him. Her breast was now properly set up, the thick nipple swollen by her need to dominate and R. finally received her warm treasure.

"You may close your eyes now, while I comfort you."

R. had entered the dominion of control.



The Guardian



(Hello everyone! This is my first submission and I hope you all like it. I know its short but I intend on making longer stories as soon as possible. I'm always open to constructive advice (but please don't be rude.) And if anyone wants to be my partner in crime by editing my stories, then don't hesitate in letting me know. 

*

The sun was shining brightly through the canopy of trees in the local wildlife reserve as a tall young man strolled leisurely down the well-worn hiking trail. The birds and little critters around him made little noises as they went about their daily duties as he watched with an amused smile on his lips. Kyle was a nature fanatic. He loved being outdoors and went out camping whenever his job at the small library in town would let him. He has always felt more comfortable around nature than he was around people; he was a soft spoken man of 23 who never wanted too much association with his neighbors.

He felt more at home here, with the small creatures who never thought more of him than just another animal roaming the woods. He took comfort in that. Knowing that he was simply welcomed here, and he was never judged. Now, Kyle was not bad looking at all. In fact, he was very handsome with his well-toned body, clear skin, and almost silver colored eyes. His jet black hair was to his ears, and curled up in small tuffs that could never be tamed to stay down. He stood about 6'4'', and his body was hardened from years of hiking and hard outdoor labor. Though, back in town no one ever seemed to see him and his charms because he always hid himself behind baggy clothing and geeky glasses. But when he was out here, in the wilderness, he always wore well fit jeans and shirts (If he even wore a shirt at all).

As Kyle continued along the dirt path to his favorite camp site, his large knapsack hanging heavy on his broad shoulders, his mind was drifting back to the headlines in the newspaper: 3 Bear Attacks in One Week! Kyle scoffed that the absurd headline. He had walked these woods for years and the bears never bothered anyone. They always did their best to avoid people, and if they did attack it was for a good reason. Besides that, the larger animals always stayed away from the common pathways of the hikers and birdwatchers. Chances were that the "victims" were poachers who had the tables turned on them. Served them right, by Kyle's standards. 

It wasn't much longer before Kyle reached his private campsite. It was a cozy little clearing with a lovely view of a small lake, not much bigger than a watering hole. Kyle sat his bag down and got busy setting up his tent and campsite.

The human never sensed the beast's presence. For many years the wolf-like creature watched the human as he wondered through his territory. He had guarded the forest for much longer, though. The only reason why the human never met harm was because he never caused harm in the woods. The human male was respectful and observant of the nature around him, as though he too belonged here. Perhaps he did, but that was not for the beast to determine. These were hard times in the forest, with wicked men trespassing and causing damage. The last one had been keen on trying to start a fire, and since this summer season was so dry, it would have grown out of control and destroyed this ancient place. The beast could not allow such a sin. 

The beast was what some humans would have called a "werewolf". But his people called him Guardian. His people were the indigenous humans of this forest, even though they no longer lived here; he still carried on his duties of protecting their homeland, and honoring their memories by remaining loyal his cause. Guardian stood about 7'6'', his fur was the purest white and his eyes the brightest gold. His appearance was like a wolf standing on its hind legs, but he was far more muscular than any common wolf. His facial features were harder and fiercer. His long muzzle was tipped with a wet black nose that could pick up even the slightest scent. His hand-like paws were tipped with black razor sharp claws. He was a fearsome sight to behold for sure, but he was normally a sweet natured beast. Back in the old days, the children of his people loved him and he enjoyed spending long hours playing with the little human cubs. But alas, those times were long gone and Guardian was alone his in forest. 

Guardian gave a small sigh as he continued to watch the human, as he had done many times over the years. He longed for companionship, but watching over the young male would be the closest he would ever get. 

Kyle stripped off his shirt and pants, then his undergarments and tossed them in a pile beside his tent as he walked down to the bank of the lake. The water was cool against his tired feet as he waded into its clear depts. Kyle gave a slow sigh of pleasure before dipping underneath to soak his hair. When he broke the surface again his black hair was a dripping mop on his head that he pushed out of his face. He then rolled over onto his back and floated, his manhood standing hard and proud from the sensations of the water. Kyle looked down his body and at his cock. He could be considered well-endowed with an impressive 9' cock that was almost 4' thick. He stood back on his feet and gripped his shaft in a firm grip and started to stroke it, groaning softly. He was completely unaware of the set of golden eyes that watched him from the cover of the trees.

Guardian's ears perked up when he heard the human groan, and was instantly concerned that he was hurt, but one sniff of the air Guardian's mind was instantly changed. The male was aroused. Guardian had seen humans rutting in his forest before. But this... This was different. This human's pheromones captured Guardian's senses and held them in a vice grip. As Kyle stepped out of the water, still slowly stroking his shaft, Guardian's own sex started to throb. The wolf-beast's pink tip slowly started slipping out of its sheath, precum already glistening on its pointed tip. Kyle then sat on his rolled up sleeping bag and stroked himself in earnest. He licked his lips and let his head fall back as his fist pumped his cock faster and harder. Kyle's eyes were squeezed shut in both concentration and pleasure, and didn't see Guardian step out of the woods and into the clearing, panting and growling softly. 

Guardian stepped closer to the male, his mind fogged with the need to mate with this human. Kyle's groans became louder as his body shook slightly as he neared his climax which coaxed Guardian into action. He leaned down and with his long pink tongue he lapped up the pearled precum on the head of Kyle's penis. Kyle jumped in surprise falling backwards off of the sleeping bag and onto the dirt, blowing his load all over the muzzle of the giant wolf creature. Guardian pinned Kyle down by his chest with a massive paw and licked his muzzle and then Kyle's cock clean. Kyle's silver eyes were wide with both fear and wonder of the giant wolf-thing, and also pleasure from the hot tongue that was licking his shaft. Once Guardian cleaned Kyle he looked up into the man's eyes daring him to fight back. Kyle whimpered as moved his muzzle closer to Kyle's face, those sharp long teeth inches from his flesh before the wolf's tongue lashed out and licked the human's chin and throat. 

Kyle's pulse was hammering as the wolf continued to lick all over, making him shiver and even moan softly since his skin was already sensitive from his masturbation. Kyle reached out and even dared to pet the giant wolf's fur. Guardian tensed up but then relaxed once he saw the human's intentions and allowed Kyle to pet his fur. Kyle gave a sheepish smile at the texture of the fur, the top coat felt coarse and thick but when Kyle's fingers went deeper he found a softer downy-like fur underneath. The wolf shivered from Kyle's touch and nuzzled the male. The endearing moment was short lived as Guardian's cock was now throbbing painfully and needed release; he easily flipped the human over on to his belly and drew up his hips so that Kyle was on all fours. Fear struck Kyle when he realized what was about to happen, but through his fear he realized he had a pulsing erection that hung low between his legs.

Kyle gasped as the werewolf's tongue lapped vigorously as his exposed anus. The strange sensation cause Kyle to writhe and moan, leaning closer to the ground and holding his ass higher for the beast to continue his oral assault on his tender hole. It wasn't long before saliva started to drip down Kyle's thighs, the young man was a slave to his own body. In his mind, he was repulsed by this. He knew that he should be fighting against this sexual persecution but he couldn't find the desire to do so. "Please... More!" Kyle found himself begging as he looked back at the giant white werewolf. 

As though the wolf understood the man's pleas, he mounted Kyle's backside. His hard shaft stroking and prodding Kyle's hungry hole before applying more pressure, making Kyle cry out in pain. His virgin hole being violated by Guardian's thick wolf cock until finally the beast's cock slipped in past the tight entrance, leaving Kyle gasping for air and the werewolf growling in pleasure.

The beast thrusted slowly into Kyle. He carefully until the young man's anus became more accepting of intruder. Kyle felt as though the wolf was filling his bowels with just its massive cock as every inch of it was inside of him, until the wolf's balls pressing against Kyle's own sack and thighs. 

"Oh god, it's too much!" Kyle whimpered, his nails digging into the ground. The werewolf leaned over and licked and nibbled on the man's neck and back to ease the pain, its paws locked onto Kyle's hips. The young man started to slowly relax, and become more accepting of the situation. The werewolf scented this and started to move its hips in and out of his chosen mate, grunting and growling approvingly into the human's ear. 

Kyle moved with the werewolf's thrusts, until its cock stroked something deep inside Kyle, causing him to gasp and moan in pleasure. Guardian's cock was hitting Kyle's prostate just right sending waves of pleasure to wash over Kyle. Kyle's moans grew in volume as he moved into Guardian's thrusts to seek more of that wonderful pleasure. Their speed ever increasing until Guardian felt his knot grow, and knew it had to be inside his mate. He pounded hard into Kyle's hole to fit the knock inside of the man. Kyle felt his anus being stretched and something hard and bigger being forced inside of him, pain and pleasure mixing to create euphoria of sensations. Kyle was instantly thrown into orgasm just as the knot entered him. Kyle's virgin body gave violent jerks as his seed shot from his cock and into the dirt under him. The werewolf behind him howled as its own ejaculation shot deep into Kyle's bowels. 

The two remained in their positions for a short time, to catch their breath. Finally the werewolf held Kyle close as it lay down on the ground, his cock still locked inside Kyle's ass. The young man nuzzled the beast before sleep over came him, sweeping his mind away to relive the pleasure of his first mating over and over again. 

Kyle awoken the next morning in his tent, snuggled into his sleeping bad. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. His mind whirled from his strange dream as he sat up, only to flinch in pain from a soreness that covered his body, including inside his rump. He opened the sleeping bag to see dried cum on his skin and the fabric of the bag, along with white fur that was scattered amongst it. Kyle looked out of the tent flap into the forested area beyond and wondered to himself, if his wolf-mate would return to him again soon.

FIN



The Guardian



The Shinjito Mountain shrine lay twenty seven miles from the nearest village. Barely a village at that, boasting four shacks, half again as many chickens, and one solitary yak so fat I supposed it ate the rest of the herd. One of the shacks was a waystation, or so they claimed, available for rent to the wealthy pilgrims who sometimes passed. Looking at the ramshackle structure, I could not imagine anyone with a shred of taste taking but a single step under its roof. Still, many of the rich were fools, a fact I so often profited from.

Twenty seven miles of hills and valleys brought me only to the first of five thousand steps. I paused at the base, lowering my sword and pack, both of which had grown quite heavy over the last leg of my journey. Prevailing upon the nearby stream, I decided that it was time for tea. There are niceties to be observed, after all, at least for any civilized person.

Perhaps two miles back I had passed a lone hunter carrying his heavy kill slung across his shoulders. He nodded in greeting, but did little to hide his disdain. Yes, peasant, stare at the flamboyant stranger with his elegant clothes and fancy sword. Why yes, he is dripping with sweat dripping as a result of climbing up and down your damnable mountains. Isn't that hilarious?

Go on, keep walking. Go back to grubbing for dirt in your tiny village. I'm sure you enjoy yourself.

Tea was exquisite, at least, despite the meanness of my wooden cup. Nothing quite matches the subtle taste striking your lips as you watch the sun climb over a mist covered mountain forest. I'm certain the view was better from the shrine itself, but it was for those that I had come.

Despite its remoteness, the shrine was famous for three reasons. Foremost of these were its legendary healing waters, said to be the primal waters of life, fed from the beating heart of the great mountain until it came bursting clean and pure from a sprint at the summit. The villagers held even the tiny mountain streams holy, and were quick to say so when hawking their sealed containers.

I smiled again, sipping on my "holy" tea. I felt no magic in it, no great lifespring of health or energy, but it was refreshing. As are all good teas.

"Well," I said as I packed my bowl and eyed the endless stairs, "I'm not getting any closer as I sit."

Smiling wearily, I took the first of many steps.

Though not exactly worn, the steps certainly showed signs of passage. The shrine was often a spot of pilgrimage for the wealthy and superstitious, not to mention the desperate. Those who could made the grueling trip up the mountain that they might drink directly from the great spring. The ill and infirm sent servants or relatives, who would (after making lavish gifts) be permitted to dip a flask into the pool that they may deliver these most potent of healing waters.

Over the centuries, those treasures themselves had become legendary. Heirlooms of kings and emperors gone by, the rulers had long since passed from this world along with whatever ailments they possessed. Only their treasures lingered. Even had the spring dried up, still some would come to see the wonders of craftsmanship and elegance that had collected over the centuries.

Then there were others - like me - who would claim those treasures for themselves.

Thus enters the third legend of the shrine. The fabled maiden guardian of the mountain. Last daughter from a long line of women warriors, their skills and power passed down from mother to daughter over the centuries. Or, if you believed wilder tales, there was but a single guardian, kept immortal over the centuries by that selfsame water they guarded.

I was more inclined to believe the first, their strength more attributable to this blasted steep mountain than some mystical water. Genuine magic was a rare and precious thing, after all, and I had seen little sign of it so far.

At the last set of one hundred steps, I paused to comport myself. Setting aside my pack behind a hollow tree, I made certain my clothes and grooming properly displayed the native elegance I believed myself to possess. There was power to be had in the art of a first impression, and I would settle for nothing short of perfection.

Though I had been observed throughout my ascent, I found her waiting and composed as I made my way to the shrine's base. Knelt before a statue, white robed and sword at her side. Motionless, as one locked in the deepest meditation, she seemed more fixture of the shrine than a person.

As I approached, she stood and bowed. A formal gesture that I returned freely. As always, proper etiquette was an essential foundation for any meaningful life, and I would not shirk it here just because I intended to pilfer her holy shrine.

At a glance, I saw her take in every facet of my appearance. My costly garments not the typical fashion of a pilgrim, but clearly fine. The sword at my side. A reasonable precaution for a lengthy and uncertain journey, but also a threat. Taking in my lanky frame, I saw she judged me little threat. A blow to me pride, but only a small one, given what was to follow.

The lady herself was something to behold. Perfectly composed, her pure white gown was immaculate. Not a fiber of cloth out of place, nor even a single strand of her lustrous black hair. I had not expected her beauty, the radiance that shone clearly in her delicate face. No squat, mannish brute of a warrior as I had been expecting, the woman before me was utterly exquisite in every way. Just as much a treasure as those she guarded.

Neither had I expected the cold intelligence in her eyes. The stark, all observing regard held within. All poise and grace, yes, but with hidden power too, and clearly used to being in control. This was a formidable woman.

"Welcome, o weary pilgrim," she said formally, "I greet you and bid you enter. May you bring peace with you, and find peace within."

In other words, don't start trouble, and I won't have to put you down. Prettily said, despite the menace it veiled.

"I greet you also, maiden of the shrine," I said, again bowing formally, "blessings be upon you, and on your house."

Eyes still upon my sword, she ushered me inside the foyer of the shrine where tea was waiting. The shrine was as impressive inside as out, make no mistake. Lovingly carved from tall hardwood panels not native to this prefecture, every inch was a magnificent ode to style and beauty. The artist within me weeped to behold them. And yet, the thief within noticed a marked absence of gold, jewels, and all the rest of their fabled wealth. Had I been lied to?

My eyes scanned the room, seeking out what a cursory glance had missed. Along the back wall, I found it. What I had taken for a decorative panel was actually a stout wooden door. As lovingly crafted as all the rest, save that it also guarded the passage beyond. Clever, why risk your wealth when it might also be held safe behind lock and key? No matter how good your guard.

Or had her legend been exaggerated?

The tea was marvelous. The gift of some distant traveler, perhaps. Or else another carefully guarded secret of their mountain, for I did not quite recognize the flavor. No wooden bowls here, instead we sipped carefully from dainty cups thin as an eggshell. The view was quite different here, to be sure, but considering the lady across from me, it was no less lovely.

Our conversations included much careful ceremony, but little in the way of substance. I allowed that, following the proper forms as the conversation moved towards its intended path.

"Though I have come to pay homage to your fabled waters, and return some - if I may - to my ailing grandfather, I have also heard rumor of the great and marvelous wonders held within this shrine. I would see them, if it is permitted."

"Of course," said with a small bow, "Though as they are held within the inner shrine, five days of fasting and purification must precede your visit."

I bowed again. Another formality. I had known of the rituals, though not of the hidden door.

"Ah, but my grandfather is quite ill," I told her. Though it had been many years since I'd seen him, and unlikely the old bastard was still alive. On the plus side, she had at least confirmed their presence. With luck, she might open the door before we reached our inevitable confrontation.

"Alas, I have not the five days to spare. Might I be favored with just a short glance."

"I am sorry," she said, "but the demands of propriety are quite strict. Perhaps you could return with your grandfather for a proper visit, when he has recovered, and witness them together."

She tensed, and I could see that for all our pretty words, we both knew where this was headed. Through meaningless pretense, proper form must still be observed.

"Be that as it may," I told her, rising, my sword in hand. "I nonetheless insist."

"Be warned, traveler," she said as she too rose, "the sanctity of this shrine shall be defended to the utmost."

Translation: Back down the fuck down and leave, or else I will gut you. How interesting. I must admit, I was no mean swordsman myself, and curious to see how the lovely guardian's reputation would hold.

I nodded, this time refusing to take my eyes off of her. A pause, so quiet you could almost hear the altar candles flicker in stillness. All was silent, save for our muted breath and the beating of my heart. A gust of wind came, catching the leaves outside, shaking the trees and waving her implacable hair.

We drew, steel clashing together as our swords met. Uncomfortably close to my body, I realized, discomfited at how near I had come to losing everything in that first (an potentially final) strike. A lesson, then, in overconfidence. We sprang back, careful to avoid the tea service. I nodded in appreciation.

Circling, our swords met again, then once more in rapid succession. How quickly she moved, and with such grace, even in her formal robes. I could see now that they had been designed for freedom, despite their elegance. Her every step was an art form, each movement a poem composed of death. My death, if she had her way.

Seven strikes into our duel, I came to a very unwelcome realization. She was holding back. Carefully probing with each strike, her every move revealed more of my style and weaknesses without surrendering even a hint of advantage. I would lose this fight.

Oh well, I suppose it was never more than a pointless vanity. Smiling, I stepped back and raised my sword in salute.

"Truly, guardian, your prowess has been understated, and your beauty as well. Your mastery of the sword is magnificent."

"And you are no swordsman at all," she said bluntly. "Leave, while I will still allow it."

Ouch, another blow to my pride, though I could hardly fault her assessment. She had defeated me soundly, after all, and could have cut me several times over had she been inclined. Instead she showed mercy, and I respected her all the more for it.

Yet still I smiled, for she did not understand the true nature of our confrontation.

"You speak the truth," I told her, "The sword is naught but a hobby, a long fancy that I have pursued when able. As I was already making this journey, it seemed worthwhile to test myself against the guardian."

Great plan there. I'd nearly lost my head for that bit of indulgence. In truth, I'd thought myself better than this, having long trained with the best teachers. Though having met her blade, I now wondered at the truth of their widely professed skill. Questions for later. Already, I could see her reevaluate her decision not to kill me, incensed by the idea of a rank amateur had dared to openly challenge her.

"In truth," I admitted, "It is sorcery to which I have long applied, and have made my primary profession."

At this, she openly scoffed.

"Ha! Now I know you for what you are. A madman, or a fraud! And surely a madman, for who else would stake his life on such nonsense. There is no such thing as sorcery."

I grinned. Bold words, for someone living beside a mythical spring. Nodding my head, I raised my sword again, as if in salute, and in one swift motion released the spirit held within.

She frowned, not yet understanding her predicament. To her untrained eye, there would have been naught but a flicker, a shimmering displacement in the air that might have been nothing more than a trick of the candlelight.

Mine saw better, watching with glee as the red, amorphous cloud flew at her. Roiling almost sensually, long grasping tendrils wrapped around her body, gripping close as the spirit merged with her own essence.

A twitch, just a brief spasm as she responded slightly to a sudden prickling sensation. I watched in satisfaction as she tried to ignore it. Just a small gust of wind, she no doubt told herself, long disciplined and trained to ignore such petty discomforts. We circled still, but I had no intention to engage her.

She too circled without striking. No doubt thinking herself virtuous for refusing to cut down a madman, yet not daring to let her guard down until I disengaged. It didn't matter if she had. Already, a sheen of nervous perspiration developed prettily on her face. Courtesy of a sudden warmth that had nothing to do with her carefully metered exertions. Even were I defeated, it was too late for her. Already, my little beauty had found its way inside, and its work would continue quite well without me.

Of course, I'd prefer being around to enjoy the fruits of my labor.

That spirit had been one of my most clever creations. Born in the unsentimental carnality of a whorehouse, it was a spirit of pure lust, a creature of fleshy desire. Driven half mad with long captivity in the household of a sworn virgin, it now possessed a near mindless desire to inflame and corrupt. Its one all consuming goal to unleashed the restrained, to drive the rational mad with need, to strip away any and all self control.

The perfect tool to break this haughty statue.

In my plans, I had brought it only as a distraction. Something to keep her incapacitated long enough to take what I had desired. Now, staring at this lithesome beauty, with her lean, graceful figure, wild hair, and full lustrous lips, I could not help but imagine other ways I might benefit from the lust spirit already at work within her.

It was beginning to affect her, and now she knew it too. Long suppressed feelings bubbled deep within, stirring towards the surface. New hunger shone in her eye, and there was a marked change in her regarded for me.

Still she attacked, driving towards me with sudden and direct fury, now seeking a quick end to the battle. Perhaps she told herself it was to remove the malign influence, but I knew the truth. Deep down, she wanted this battle to end not so she was rid of the curse, but that she might freely pleasure herself. Still too restrained to imagine doing so where another might watch, that reservation would not last long.

Had she struck so against me earlier, that might have ended me. Now, she was far too distracted, her blows too crude and desperate to be any real threat. I might have even struck true myself, despite her superior skill, but of course I did not. It was not my blade that would be penetrating her.

"Vile monster," she said as she backed off, panting for reasons that had nothing to do with sword play. "What have you done to me?"

"What are you talking about," I said sweetly, "How could I do anything, when we both know that sorcery is a fraud? Surely whatever you feel must come from within? Please, feel free to explore them. Do not stop on my account."

"It... it isn't going to work," she said.

"Then why are you touching yourself?"

She gasped, looking down and noticing that her hand had snaked its way into the chest of her robe. She snatched it away, but did not fix her garment. The sword hung limp at her side, and I watched her stare at it, laughing when I noticed where her eyes were landed.

Locked firmly on the handle, she no longer evaluated it as a weapon. Instead, her only concern was for how long the handle was, and where she might put it. I, too, had something long and solid for her, thought it was not quite time to say such words.

The sword clattered against the ground as she sank to her knees. Robe opened wide and heedless of my presence, she openly touched herself. I might have thought she'd forgotten me, save for the needful way she stared. Tearing aside the bindings at her chest, I realized the shrine held a hidden fourth wonder, for there was no other way I could describe the bosom that came pouring forth.

"Please," she begged now, barely propped up as he fingers plunged frantically inside her. "Please make it stop."

"Make what stop, my dear? Is there something you want? Something you need?"

She shuddered at that, throwing her head back as the once stoic guardian moaned openly. I had her now, time to make sure.

"Please! Please!" she begged, no longer knowing what for.

"Please what?"

She cried out, her body squirming frantically with a need she could stoke but not fulfill on her own. Yet still she shook her head.

"No! No, I can't say it."

But she wanted to. Wanted it very badly.

"Say what?" I asked innocently. Another pause, and then she broke.

"Please, fuck me!" she cried. "That's what you wanted, isn't it, you monster? Well now I offer, nay, I beg. Take me!"

Inwardly, I admired her fortitude. It wasn't every woman who would be so lucid in the face of the powerful spirit. Alas, it was not quite the time for admiration.

"I don't know," I said, feigning unwillingness even as I eagerly awaited using her.

The response was almost laughable. In one moment, her unwilling surrender shifted to frank terror at the thought that I might not fuck her.

"No! You must. Please! Is this not what you wanted?"

"Really, I had been planning to fuck in the inner sanctum. If that's not open, then I suppose I'll just have to leave."

I thought that would break her, but again the fortitude of this woman astounded me.

"Oh, but we can't! It's forbidden. The sanctity of the shrine must not be breached. It mustn't! I beg you, sir! Can we not fuck here? Is my body not pleasing enough? Or outside, if you prefer, or I could leave with you. As your servant, your slave. Wherever you want so long as you just fuck me!"

"Tempting," I said, and it really was. Who wouldn't be stirred to desire, watching this lithe, graceful woman beg you to own her. Alas, even if I wanted to take her up on the offer, that isn't quite how this spirit worked.

"But there is only one place I wish to fuck, and that is the inner sanctum. I will fuck there, or not at all."

She whined pitifully, and for one brief moment I almost expected her to defy all logic and resist the potent spirit churning within. But she didn't. No woman could.

"If I let you into the sanctum, you'll fuck me there?"

"Absolutely."

"Key," she gasped, so overwhelmed with need that every word came in a ragged gasp. "Waist pocket, hidden inside. Please, hurry!"

Obliging the lady, I searched her clothes until I found the key. Unsurprising. I suppose I could have done that from the beginning, so much more fun to hear her say it. To hear her beg.

"Hurry," she moaned again.

I opened the door, and gasped as light shone upon the glistening gold and gems of countless figurines and idols. Each rendered carefully in expensive metal or precious stone. One jade statue with rubies in its eyes was nearly as big as my forearm. For a moment, I actually considered leaving the broken guardian where she was. But no, a promise was a promise. Besides, I'd almost trade all the treasure in the room just to lay with her.

Almost. Besides, why not both?

Lifting the writhing maiden from the floor, I carried her into the chamber. Finding her driven almost insensible at my touch, I laughed at the way she ground herself so needfully against me, savoring her desperate desire as she showered me with kisses. The juices which had already made a puddled against the floor now flowed down onto my shirt, but I counted that an inconsequential loss.




The Guardian



Wasting no time on foreplay, for I required none and her insistent need could not tolerate it, I soon stripped and pushed my way inside of her. Our first coupling was not long, but carried an intensity I had never before experienced. Though I had used the spirit before, it had never joined with a woman possessing such power and vitality. As her legs clamped around me, her body milking my cock, I marveled that the energy which had once defended the shrine was now bent solely in the pursuit of pleasure. Both hers and mine.

She howled wildly, clinging tight as I finally delivered the powerful release she had craved, though even that did little to sate her lust. My hands and mouth roamed her body, reveling at the touch. All that had opposed me, all that had been hidden, was now mine. Free for the taking, and oh so responsive.

Grunting in triumph, I pushed inside and spent myself deep within the defeated shrine maiden. The spirit flashed crimson, and drove her to another powerful orgasm in time with mine.

I collapsed on top of her, spent and satisfied, though I rolled us both over on our sides so I could continue exploring her body. She cooed at my touch, soft body pressing back against me as my hands found her pillowy breasts. I nuzzled her cheek and was gratified to feel her respond. The long black hair which had so tantalized me with its earlier perfection now splayed loosely across the floor and against my face. I found myself surprised at the tenderness I felt, almost wishing that I could take her along with the rest of the treasures.

But no, to do that would destroy the very qualities I held in such fondness. The beauty, she might retain under my control, but not the intensity, the self-possession. There were other beauties in this world, and the artist in me would not stand for destroying something so pure and perfect. With a soft sigh, I rose from where we lay. It was time to begin my looting.

There was only so much I could carry, and as I could not bear to ruin the larger statues prying out their gemstones, it was the smaller pieces I turned to. The jade figurine was an absolute prize. It was easy to recall any number of collectors who would pay dearly for that, though I was sorely tempted to keep it for myself. Decisions for later.

Given the shrine's reputation, I had hoped there might be some great magics hidden away. It had, in fact, been the primary reason for this trip. Alas, there was nothing in evidence, though I searched carefully.

A had minor spirits, and these I coaxed into more portable containers. New spirits were always useful, and I could discern their nature later. Far from the great magics I had been hoping for, but useful nonetheless. Besides, there had been many unexpected side benefits to this tip, not least of which was moaning softly near the door.

As I carried my pack out, she regained some vague semblance of lucidity. Just enough to see her lips wrapped around my cock in a desperate attempt to delay my departure. It worked, and we enjoyed another merry tumble or two. These were slower and far less insistent, but no less enjoyable for it.

When it was over, I rose and dressed myself, gathering pack and sword as I called the temporarily sated spirit back into my blade. Given time, it would slowly corrupt her thoughts, turning her into a true whore, gladly offering up her body to any that would pay and loving every second of it. An amusing thought, to see how that would change the shrine's reputation, but I would not do that to her. Even beyond the fondness I felt for her, she had showed me mercy when she did not have to. I could see no reason not to do the same.

Bending down, I gave her a kiss on the forehead and a pat on her still flat stomach. I had taken many treasures from the shrine, but perhaps left another gift behind. Who knew, only time would tell.

For a moment, I was tempted to linger, lulled by the pleasant thought of a full night with her. It had been many years since I had found a woman I so enjoyed. But no, without the spirit there was no telling what I would wake to.

Besides, there were five thousand steps to descend, and many miles to go before I reached home. My pack was heavy with pilfered riches, my loins satisfied from the other great treasure I had claimed, and it was time to be on my way.

A good day, all in all.



The Guardian and the Priestess



A priestess was always a woman of graceful stature. Curved in all the proper places with none of the excess that would deter her duties being done. Compared to the virgins, though, she was noticeably different. The virgins were, from the beginning of time, petite and lush yet pristine in their innocence. Meanwhile, the priestess exuded sensuality, confidence and a presence all her own. Yet it was natural, unaffected as well as expected. 

The man chosen as guardian was always a leader. Strong, solid in his convictions and a shifter of some sort. The animal the guardian shifted with was always one of cunning and determination, the magic of the moon demanded it thus. Such as an eagle or a bear. In this instance he was a wolf. A silver wolf. 

The low chanting began as she was led into the center of the circle by the six virgins. Her arms raised in supplication to the moon she allowed them to remove her robe leaving her bare to the light of the full moon. It's light caressing every curve and hollow, bathing her in its glow. Her stance was one of confidence and obedience all at once. Arms upraised, breasts proudly thrust out, her womanhood smooth and visible as her legs were slightly spread. She was the Priestess as well as the Sacrifice. This is how it had been since time began and how it would continue till times end. 

Suddenly the chanting stopped and the virgins faded into the trees that encircled the clearing. Behind her there He appeared. Her Guardian, her Wolf, her Lover. Tall and strong, his moonlit hair fell behind him as a mantle. Naked as she, he wrapped his arms around her, his hands cupping her breasts reverently. She was the Priestess and to be treated as such. Her head at his action tilted to the side to allow him access to the slender column of her neck. She was the Sacrifice as well and as such stood still, in offering to Him as well as the Moon. His for this moment, to have, to command. His. 

His aged, yet virile body pressed flush against her back revealed his arousal. Lips nibbling and teasing along her collar announced his desire. Her soft moan encouraged his attentions, her womanhood dampening in anticipation. His hand at her breasts, fingertips teasing her nipples, she fought against the desire to melt. But no, she was the Offering, the Sacrifice and as such under the command of the Moon. Until the Moon commanded her acquiescence she would hold herself in readiness, arms upraised, breasts proudly thrusting their peaks in offering, her smooth, succulent pussy bare and on display as she endured her lovers pleasure. 

Stifling a moan, her head lay back against his shoulder as his hands drifted lower, sliding down her stomach and around to rest over her hips where they gripped tightly. Pressure upon them was used to pull her against the rigid length of the Guardian. His engorged head parting the cleft of her rounded bottom. As quickly as he'd pulled her in he released her hips as she quietly gasped at the loss of the sensation. His hands smoothing around the front of her hips coming to rest just below her navel and above the juncture of her thighs. Down, down, down they slid in a tortuously slow movement, skimming her bare lips and back up and around her thighs causing her to shiver with need. 

Through all of this his lips and tongue had been working their smooth magic upon her neck. Kissing and suckling. Tongue swirling the spot upon her neck that marked her as belonging to the Guardian as well as the Moon. 

Finally the Moon dipped behind the clouds giving its consent. As it did the Wolf at her back bent her in half smoothly and entered her wet heat with a deep growl. Orgasm quickly rippled through her as he surged, his hands gripping her hips cruelly. Holding her ankles she could only moan and gasp at being taken so wildly. Fast approaching another climax she screamed in ecstasy as he howled his own release to the Moon.

The virgins reemerged as the Wolf released her, their gentle hands holding her upright as his seed trailed down her parted thighs. Gone in an instant, she was left alone with the women, to be tended, pampered and petted in preparation for the next night. The mating would continue each night of the full moons cycle. Conception was a given as the entire purpose of the ceremony. Born of the Guardian and the Priestess would be a future Priestess of the Moon and born unto her in time a new Guardian. This is how it had been since time began and how it would continue till times end.