The First Spark
-The First Spark-
"Fuck!" Chaery's fingers only tingled with a fiery electricity; her fur had fizzled from it's previously orange state to a dull greyness that permeated out from the small of her back. Like a pull-switch, when her eyes shut in frustration and reopened, the fire in her palms left, and her fur faded instantly. A well-planned arrow hissed by her cheek and the sounds of battle emanated from the valley. She could sense the enemy archers focusing on her and the throng of spearholders below. Two men fell from the stone wall where she was perched, a gray fox and a rough white canine, tumbling forward over the granite, clutching at their bleeding necks. When the others sensed her magic barrier fade, they mechanically knelt for cover behind the worn stone outcroppings, continuing to send calculated volleys of crossbow bolts tearing across the muddy plains.
She hissed, seethed, and panted, falling to her stomach and pulling herself around. With a wrenching lurch, her arms and legs avoided the clinking of a dozen well-aimed arrows, colliding against the ten foot walking space that constituted the highest and the most conspicuous section of the stronghold. She shimmied, her claws scratching wildly, until her shoulders contacted roughly with the back-side of the parapet. Broken stones flaked onto her leather bodice, and she shook, regaining her composure against the cold granite. Another gray fox, a trusted officer, crouched behind the same stone cover and with a stoic routine of military precision, continue to load, fire, load, fire, as explosions reverberated from the ground below. His left leg had a deep wound, long-since healed, and with every movement, the black, furless length of the thing stretched hideously. He spat blood from his teeth, turning briefly to see Chaery slumped close to him.
"That was good attempt. Thank you." The fox unleashed another shot; his right eye caught the sight of a cavalry man, his armor flashing as he fell headlong into the masses to be trampled underfoot. Another bolt slid effortlessly into place between his fingers.
"T'was a fucking disaster, Lieutenant. Myrna will have my head for being so useless, if I can even survive. Dammit! Two weeks meditation and that is all the power I can muster?" Her young fingers crackled, then sputtered out. "If the Glane falls, 'twill be my own doing!"
The Lieutenant snarled. "The Glane has never fallen, child." His emphasis on the word "child" was not affectionate. "The Surwyn nation will hold it's own, and those bastards..." He paused to fire. "...out there will run screaming, leaving only a trail of their shriveled little bollocks behind!"
"I could have been more help." She hissed. With a tilt of his neck, the fox avoided a well-shot javelin, splinters of wood erupting from it's staff as it flipped end-over-end on the blocks before plummeting out of sight.
"The war is not over." He said, for a moment assuming a kneeling position and filling the leather quiver on his left arm with a satchel on his side. "If you cannot help on the front lines, then I'm sure your bosom can service the men in back."
Her accusatory words erupted from her maw, her finger glowing orange as she wagged it in his face. "You have absolutely no authority to speak..." She choked as his muzzle snapped barely an inch from her jaw line. His piercing glare prevented all rational thought except full compliance.
His teeth bared, an angry bloody saliva dripped across her cheek. He spoke very clearly, his voice like a whispering steel vice. "Find yourself a purpose, or get the fuck out of here!" And as quickly as his dominant display had commenced, he had begun another rhythm of fire, sure and precise.
Her pulse raced. The Lieutenant could have been discharged for a command so harsh if the circumstances were different. She was royal blood, a possible heiress to the throne, even if third in line. But, she could think of no righteous rebuke; and her precarious situation forced itself into the forefront of her mind when a wolf on the next pier slumped to the side with his skull cavity cracked open like a smashed pomegranate, two more arrows immediately littering his exposed chest.
For a moment, she fought her overwhelming sense of helplessness, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, the ting of metal on stone like the clicking of a riotous metronome. With her eyes closed and blood flowing through her body so quickly it made her shake, she accessed her current state. She had not collapsed, nor was she spent, blubbering, and incoherent like she had seen so many mages who had exhausted all their potential within the magical arena. Her training was too weak in these areas; she had no fortitude to use her own life force, and therefore she could walk and function, useless as a frail, young Lady in the heat of battle.
She had to recharge. The diagnosis was easy, however the solution to the immediate problem eluded her. Two weeks of preparation, coupled with years of training, had led to this one fateful moment when her true power was to be unleashed upon those toothless soldiers of the Surwyn. The moment had lasted a mere hour, her protective energy fizzling before the enemy ballistas were in position. But, how could she instantly regain even a fraction of her full power, if it had taken weeks of silence to gather it. Her professors had only taught patience and control, a slow burning excitement in the magical arts that depended solely on the caster's self-discipline and dedication. A clear, white, purity, that shown proudly through the fur of those in tune.
She beat her gray paws on the stone in frustration. From birth, she had a passion that would not be quelled with the rhetoric of her teachers. Whether it was the element that had chosen her, or an innate disposition towards rebellion, Chaery had always fostered a healthy curiosity that had gotten her into trouble. When she hit puberty, when her body began to change and develop, the adults in her kingdom made sure to observe her more carefully. The classes began to split into matriarchal and patriarchal, and her contact with males was diminished to almost non-existant. This had always been the greatest of deceptions to her, and from time to time she had skipped her etiquette and protection spell classes to gaze at the male curriculum, as they fought with staffs, and learned to control their aggressive tactics.
And when an explosion shuddered the granite beneath her, a similar rush of adrenaline filled her young mind. Her head began to hum, churning memories that brought back a tingling warmth to her extremities. The men had always ended their days with sweat and blood trickling from their fur, reveling in competition and harnessing a power in which she had always dreamt. She could only imagine as the years pushed her further and further away from the desire she felt so deeply. One male had shared her interest at the start, however young they had been at the time, and had joined with her curiosities. They spent countless hours searching the castle's many rooms for secrets, and had happened upon a single dusty tome. The darker path, or a more interesting, more dangerous, more alluring and sexy source of magic, lay open before them only to be taken away so quickly. But the sight lingered in her brain along with the tan, broken page that could undo her near fatal error on the battlefield.
She thought again of the dark arts and the male form, and her dormant, untouched memories spurred a renewed surge of energy.
She felt it was time that she finally took control of her destiny. With her wolven lips curving into a delicious black smile, she lifted herself to one knee, her leather bodice swishing with movement. The Lieutenant had interrupted his rhythm to view her movement. She scanned his features, the muscles of his left arm rippling and ruddy with cuts. When she reached out her paw and firmly grasped his hard bicep, the feeling was electric. It solidified her plan, and she held the grip longer than needed.
"I'll be right back." She yelled over the din of battle.
"You move, and you'll be fucking entrails, m'lady. Wait for my signal. There's an entire regiment with steel longbows, waiting with their aim squarely on your hide."
"Then you better give me some cover fire quick, Lieutenant." She leaned in and gave him a defiant kiss on the cheek; a scar left shiny with saliva. "Thank you."
Before he could protest a second time, she was off. Her clawed feet scraped the first stone, and with her head low, she sprinted to the far end of the wall. A thick rock skipped across the floor, exploding against the open corridor that led to a series of tunnels within the wall, and Chaery pumped her arms to follow. Two arrows sliced into a stone notch below her feet, sending her tumbling forward mid-turn, another pack of well-timed wooden missiles whizzing by her ears. As she flipped, grasping at the slick stone with her fingers, she instantly felt the imposing vertigo of her position. Beneath her, nothing existed but thirty feet of open air.
The Glane's main wall had two staircases, one to either side, stretching down along the castle's outer defenses. Chaery's mis-step had sent her to neither of these accessible walkways, tumbling downward off the center edge of the wall, thirty feet to the castle's cobblestone ground. Her fur changed from a gray to flame in an excited burst, and like a fireball, she twisted and tumbled in a swift arc, floating to the ground. Three soldiers with long pikes, stopped in their tracks, lifting their shields as their impending doom materialized into a beautiful gray wolf, her ample breasts a vision as she was again sprinting past the group the second her footpad touched the stone. Chaery knew she was lucky, fear triggering an uncontrolled, twitch reaction. As she turned the first corner of the Sanctuary, she looked back towards the group of soldiers, who were still stopped in their tracks, a cloud of smoke wafting from their slightly singed fur. "Sorry!" She yelled and weaved past a group of peasants, the women clutching young cubs to their chests, the men dressing armors.
She counted the passageways. Up the first flight of stairs, second hallway, left into the first chamber room, third passageway, right and to the third hallway. Her sprinting attracted the attention of every fur that she flew past; her breathing heavy with the journey, and fingers still crackling with an orange glow. She noticed how barren the halls were; the trinkets of previous wars had been stowed, the colorful banners stripped for cloth and armament racks emptied for war. Her usual landmarks gone, she trusted her instincts, and soon found the only landmark she had been seeking. A crest of purple and gold, it's face divided into two halves by a righteous sword. On one half, a sturdy push-cart. On the other half, a crescent moon surrounded by stars. The regal crest of the Holven Dynasty and the residence of her childhood friend, The Prince Heinrich Ovale.
She slipped into the marked room, as a large Draft Horse exited, eyeing her with more than a casual glance. Chaery could feel his eyes, and the eyes of a score of men now on her female frame. At the center of the room, on a pedestal adorned with rich dyed velvet, the object of her search was having his breast plate slipped over his torso. When a chorus of hushed snickering began, the Prince turned, a small jeweled ring between his stout nostrils and his near seven foot height imposingly armored in buffed gold. Ceremonial, thick, and godly, the Prince Ovale's bovine form towered over the room, his presence iconic and terrifying.
Chaery fell to her knees before the pedestal, her head hung forward. The simple orange skirt created a silken trail beneath. "Prince Ovale, I have need to speak with you, in private." There was another round of snickering from the men in the room; a sound of steel against steel like metal bones rolling against one another.
The mahogany bull smiled, recognizing her eloquent and histrionic display of proper submission. His ivory horns were polished to sharp points that nearly scraped the wooden beams above his dignified pose. "The battle is upon us, Lady Chaery. My men are thirsty for blood! And so, am I, my dear." A masculine cheer echoed through the hall, mixed with a tinge of laughter.
"If you could afford me one moment's respite, m'lord. I have Noble matters to discuss, of the most pressing order. I do not wish to speak of such things in the presence of your men, and humbly ask of your assistance."
Again, he recognized the "talk," but was intrigued by her heavy breathing. They had barely spoken for years, aside from ginger communications of the most legislative and achingly proper manner during the infrequent ballroom dances. He steadied himself and extended a large, brown hand. "I will not refuse you then, Lady Chaery." She looked upwards, and took his hand in a regal fashion. "We will retire to my chamber then." He turned to his second in charge, a black equine wielding a broad axe, raising his voice. "Get these men into formation, General! And God help you if they aren't ready to properly smash some skulls when I enter the field!"
The men raised their fists into the air as the Prince left the room, sending his attendants away. A short, dark hallway, led to the Prince's Chamber, a dimly lit sanctuary of dark-stained wooden cabinetry and a large canopy bed. An Oaken table surrounded by a circle of soft violet carpeting had a single oil lamp, it's soft lighting falling onto an open book beside, the pages worn and tan with reading.
Prince Ovale motioned for her to sit by the table, and he took a seat as well, having to adjust his armor with the motion. To Chaery, it looked as though any second, the legs of the wooden chair holding the Prince would collapse under his heavy stature.
The Prince smiled. "It's been a long tim..."
"Do you remember when we were kids?" Chaery interrupted, catching the Prince off-guard. "We were always scouring the library for the books with the worst pictures. The ones with women getting eaten by demons, girls getting poisoned by apples, and things like that."
"Umm, yes." He paused. "There's a war going on outside, I don't know if you..."
"Well, do you remember the one that they took away? The one that wasn't so bad, or at least the pictures weren't."
Prince Ovale laughed. "Took me three years to get it back, but yes, I remember."
"You have it?" Chaery's eyes lit up. "Where?"
"Whatever a Prince wants, he gets. I've read it in it's entirety since then, and the..."
"Where is it, Hen?" Chaery interrupted, touching the bull's thick arm. The move to touch him was reactionary, but she felt much more at ease when the large bull's features visibly softened.
"No one's called me that in years." He smiled, walking across the room to one of the smaller oak cabinets. Sifting through a few titles, he found the leather-bound volume, and placed it on the table, within the lamplight. His hand was still firmly resting upon it. "I know what you're thinking, Chaery, in times of war. But, it's a horrible idea using the dark arts. My men, as I know you're fully aware, are already uneasy about their commander wielding a staff instead of an axe. Not that they're the most intellectually stimulating group to entertain, but they fear the strange. They fear my intelligence. And they also fear the power. I've seen how guys can go mad in class, and they can fuck themselves and someone else up, pretty badly. Maybe you didn't get a chance to see what the last few chapters of this book are like." When Heinrich moved his fist, a gray paw snatched the volume as deftly as a pick-pocket.
"Maybe you didn't get a chance to see what the magistrate looks like." Chaery said with a smile. Chaery began to leaf through the pages, marveling at the text, and the pictures of powerful magic held within.
Prince Heinrich Ovale returned to his seat. "An old coot with a withered peter." Chaery laughed. "Still, fangs the size of a broadsword, eyes bulging with green pus, having to sacrifice children and drink their blood to stay alive. It sounds a little worse than becoming a puddle of pure white happy goo in a thousand years."
The lamplight flickered warmly across the cabinets, mostly housing thick brown tomes detailing everything from etiquette to scientific discovery. Chaery scanned through the pages of her most sacred book, allowing a brief silence to enter the room. Almost dreamily she began, "Only ten minutes ago, I was standing on that center wall, creating a barrier for the Lieutenant and the second line of crossbow. We could stand out in the open, watching as arrows and stones were deflected off my shield, invincible it seemed. And then, suddenly, that feeling was gone with all my power. I spent two weeks preparing, meditating, and it got me nowhere!"
"Well, you're only nineteen. I'm barely eighteen, we can't expect to be perfect."
"Here, it is! Remember this one?" She stood up and walked around the table, revealing her find with enthusiasm. There was no picture, but after a sentence, the Prince knew exactly what she was insinuating. It was the same page they had giggled at as children.
"Shit." He simply said.
She placed her paw on his brown arm again, this time having his full attention. "I was on the top of that wall, feeling completely useless, when I suddenly had a thought. A dark thought, Hen. But, a thought. I needed to recharge and there was no one else I could trust. I hate to feel useless, and I can't meditate all day while the people I love are slaughtered." She was rationalizing, but the bull in front of her was no longer completely thinking with his brain. The idea of a beautiful wolf willing to beg for him to plant his powerful seed inside her was winning the the morality war inside his mind.
"Are you a virgin, Chaery?" Hen asked, with a half-grin.
"Yes." Chaery replied excitedly, taking a seat on his lap, her legs now straddling his. The situation seemed to warrant this kind of forward behavior, so Chaery bit her lip and acted the part of the seductress, but their mutual acceptance of her suggestive posture was not instantaneous. She took a breath, feeling her own arousal heighten. "But, I can learn, Hen. Are you going to do it?"
"No. I mean, I'd be pretty big for you, Chaery." He laughed, his words jittering very slightly.
Chaery looked at him and winked. "I figured you would be. That's the ingenious coincidence of it all." Chaery grabbed the book and turned it for his viewing ease, pointing with a clawed digit. "If a lovely woman, such as myself, were to seduce a handsome bull such as yourself, this would be a most fortuitous circumstance, for you are an excellent specimen for collecting essence." She giggled. "At least, I can only assume. And in this paragraph it expounds upon the idea. I need not remind you that the more male essence I acquire, especially from a magically attuned male, the more power I will almost instantly receive. It is, in these most dire times, a perfect fit, no?"
"It's just not going to work like you think it will. Oh, fuck. This is a bad idea, Chaery." He felt her shift in his lap, making him groan in pleasure and slight pain. "The 'what if's aren't worth the 'what will's. We know what will happen. But, I mean, what if I'm responsible for your descent into evil? What if, bollocks! What if I get you pregnant? What if this doesn't work, even? Then, what if it does and you go out there and get someone killed! I mean, someone..." The bull was left squirming underneath her, as his malehood began to lengthen and press against the underside of the golden breastplate.
"Is there anyway, I can make you change your mind?" Chaery reached behind her back, toying with the strings on her leather bodice, and pushing her cleavage closer to the bovine's resisting face.
The Prince took a deep breath, then pulled the leather bodice downward by force, elliciting a gasp from Chaery. Her perfect breasts bounced into view, her small pert pink nipples rising above silky smooth gray fur. "By the Gods, why I am I resisting? Chaery, I've been hoping for years that you would come back; I just assumed you had crossed me off the list forever."
"Keeping up appearances." Chaery said, truly enjoying the reaction her body had on her old friend, letting go of the loose strings.
"True." Hen lifted her and surprised her again with a passionate kiss. Only once before had Chaery been kissed like this, and that had been a childhood dare. She melted into his arms for a brief moment, feeling the ridge of his tongue caress hers, then pushed him away. He looked almost hurt.
"There's a war going on out there, you know." She smiled and sauntered backwards a step or two, her tail swaying from side to side.
His eyes rolled. "Alright, well I don't like this at all, but I'm not going to refuse to fuck you. I have my principles." He smiled back. "I think we may want to move towards the bedchamber."
"You don't have to fuck me. As long as I drink it down, there'll be no need." Chaery said, letting the rest of of her leather bodice drop to the carpet. The bull's oval eyes grew wide. The orange skirt was hemmed to the leather, and fell to the ground like a ripe pumpkin. "Just pull down those leathers, if you please, Prince Ovale."
"But of course." The Prince rapidly unhooked the loops to his hips, allowing the gold trimming around his cod-piece to hang loose. With an uncomfortable wiggle of his hips, the leather underneath slid down past his knees and pooled around his boots.
Chaery marveled at the bull's pride. His penis already half-hard, and snaking its way up the bovine's gold chest plate. Beneath, his deep cocoa-colored testicles were lifted on display by the oak chair, each one larger than her own gray fist. Heinrich had previous experience with shocked appraisals over his endowment, but never did it elicit such an obvious and positive response.
"Jackpot!" Chaery said, squeezing her thighs together, the white lace of her satin panties attached to fuzzy white garters stretched across her upper legs.
"I wish all women said that." The dim-lighting gave her features the perfect soft contrast, and his cock surged with his heart-rate. She took a step forward, and when he saw her fall to her knees in front of him for the second time, he felt as though he would die the most pleasant death in history.
"If they only knew." She was salivating. Her soft paws moved slowly forward until she made warm contact with the bull's large orbs. "Much softer than I would have thought." With a little difficulty she palmed both balls and cradled their heavy load, testing their weight, receiving a groan from her friend in response. "Oh, this is going to be perfect." A little against her mind's will, she was becoming less doctorly in her examination, and more guided by the beating pulse at the top of her lower lips. She squeezed the globes in her small fingers, noticing the big bull's shining rod was now at full mast and dripping fluid from the tip. It was a lighter color than the Prince's short brown hair, with a tinge of pink at the flared head. An impressive display, with thick unseen veins bulging just beneath the surface, and a shallow ridge at the center, tapering back to an equally sized head. It was easily thicker than the largest part of her forearm, and looked to be a few inches longer.
She lifted herself into his lap again, wrapping her hands around his long shaft to balance. To her it felt like holding a wooden staff, and by his response, she assumed that her touch must be somewhat sensual. It curved to the bull's chest plate, pulsing hard. She attempted to regain her composure.
"Alright, now please make sure that you don't spill a drop." Chaery stated, taking one last glance at the book. "I know it usually takes me a few moments to, get myself to the point of no return. So, just tell me when you get yourself close. Should be faster with these pair around." With a smile, she lifted her cantaloupe breasts, and waited patiently.
Heinrich paused, confused. "Wait." He stopped for a beat, then began again with a more commanding tone. "Don't expect me to do it, dark one. I'm not jacking it so that I'm responsible for your evil. If you want your power, you can take it." Chaery let her breasts free and again took hold of the pole that rose up to her collarbone.
"Fair enough. But, how do I work this thing?. Where's your most sensitive spot? Mine's right at the top." For almost thirty seconds the question went unanswered as the Prince stared downward at the moist spot in her panties, where the lupine finger had pointed.
When the distraction abated, the Prince quickly replied. "Mine too. I mean, the spot on the underside, right below the tip."
Chaery quickly gripped higher on his cock, taking her palm and swirling it along the underside of his cock head. "This it?"
He squeaked on a quick breath. "'Tis."
She continued her ministrations, experimenting as her fingers grasped and softly kneaded his tip, blatantly staring and enjoying the slick feeling as small dribbles of juice flowed from the small hole at the top. The pinkness quickly developed into a deeper violet, and by the heavy breathing of the muscled bull, she realized that she was doing well. "It's so big. It's hard to get my hands around it." The ritual was beginning to have its effect on her body. When her covered lips accidentally contacted the rough, leathery, hard sheath at the bottom of the shaft she held, she did not shrink away. Her head began to swim with the beating of her heart, and she imagined the big Prince's bull cock spearing her on the bed. His shaft would caress every inch of her virgin tunnel, its bulging veins and ribbed length roughly exciting each heated muscle, filling her to the core.
And Prince Ovale moaned with the sensations, the experiments of an inexperienced paw, both overwhelming and steady. He noticed her hands had wrapped around the upper half of his length and were now taking on a more legitimate fucking motion, and he found himself driving upwards with her strokes. For a few seconds, he felt as though one more stroke would send him over the edge, and unknowingly her grip would change and she would build him up again, teetering on the brink of climax, with his legs shaking, only to let him fall from the precipice.
Chaery was focused, her fur filtering with a purifying glow, a lighter gray slowing burning to white. She was staring directly at the bull's dick, watching the contractions of the orbs below, hoping to catch every drop of essence. It was agonizing for Heinrich to see her lolling tongue and slightly parted maw glittering with ivory teeth and saliva, only an inch from the throbbing end of his massive bovine pride.
The highs and lows were too much and he sputtered, "Please, suck on it. Put it in your mouth, you're so close!" Lost in the moment, he almost tried to force himself into her jaw.
She snapped from her sensual trance. "Oh! Damn! You're right, Hen. You really should have said something earlier, I've been wasting time all this time! I bet this'll feel much better for you!"
Her muzzle sunk lower, her white neck muscles relaxing as she opened her gullet wide. After the initial thickness of his cock head, which puffed out her yawning mouth at the cheeks, almost six more inches of smooth bull cock slid into her long muzzle. With her hands holding onto the center ridge of his length, and her breasts spread apart by the thickness, she began a gentle rocking motion. When she moaned, vibrating Heinrich's entire shaft, he lost control and bucked his hips as the familiar sensation surged through his loins.
His pelvic muscles clenched hard twice and he cried, "I'm coming!" And within a heartbeat, a thick stream of white blasted into Chaery's overstuffed mouth. For a moment she gagged, having to grip the spasming cock stiffly to keep it from stabbing the back of her throat. She almost orgasmed herself, when the first gush came, but when a second, long rope of cum filled her mouth, she swallowed efficiently and methodically. The torrent of male essence made concentration an absolute requirement as the bull beneath her shook and groaned. Before long, a heavy trickle was running out of the corner of her black lips, and she felt like she would sputter and cough any moment, a fearful itch to simply quit as her cheeks ballooned comically with the syrupy fluid. But, she persevered and was able to catch up, as the bovine's muscle contractions began to slow.
When the flow slowed to droplets, Chaery swallowed the last few gulps in her maw and closed her eyes. The words of the dark tome became the center of her mind, and the softening manhood fell from her lips. The feeling began in her toes, and swiftly washed across her being; a feeling of power and contentment. It emanated from her core, the beating in her chest, and her insides began to churn as though every centimeter of her being had been reduced to particles that spun with energy and fiery potential. When she re-opened her eyes, the Prince was admiring her radiant presence, her gray fur still shining, but where her wolven white features had existed, a brilliant orange had overtaken.
"You looking amazing." Heinrich stated with eye-lids half closed. He ran his fingers along her sides down towards the lace panties, where her private patch of orange was extremely warm to the touch.
"I feel amazing. I could..." She moaned, surprising herself. The bull's thick index finger had crept underneath the material and found her dripping pussy. The sensation was so intensified that her left eye fluttered.
"The Prince believes he may have found her spot." He said, summarizing his actions as his palm caressed her silken folds. "It would be exceedingly unchivalrous for him to not return the favor." With shaky legs, he stepped from the leather garments at his feet and lifted her and himself from the chair. With a well-excuted lunge, he tossed the excited wolf into the canopied bed.
She lifted herself with her elbows, feeling her body softly sink into the cool, down, mattress pillow. The rich purple of the covers contrasted wildly with her coloring, and her fur cast a glow in the dim space. "You've already given me everything I could want." Before she had finished the statement, the large bovine was leaning in above her, carefully keeping the golden breastplate inches away as he first kissed her left nipple, swirling his tongue around the perfectly erected pink button. She moaned as he kissed his way lower, his hands all over her lower half, massaging her fur with groomed fingernails. "But, the battle. They'll need us... your men."
Heinrich smiled, the jewel in his septum gleaming. "I don't think the enemy will be leaving any time soon. Don't worry, your Prince will still have enough heads to crack." With his left hand, he moved the lace to the side exposing her glimmering labia. "And if you can forfeit another brief moment, I also have much more essence to give."
Chaery almost howled when the bull's large tongue contacted her clitoris. With an energetic fervor, the Prince lapped at her splayed cunt, relishing the taste and smells of her feminine juices. She was hot to the touch, and he was soon panting as he dipped his fingers into her tight tunnel, feeling her walls grip and tug as it explored her depths.
Chaery came. Her back arched, her toes curled, her mouth opened wide and madly, and though no sound came out, her muscles contracted harshly and deliciously. When, the first wave finally rocked her backwards, she shook and a loud moan rumbled from her open maw. It was explosive and it sent her shivering a reeling in pleasure. She bucked her hips, riding the two fingers now stretching and invading her.
It was not long, while witnessing this display, for the Prince's used cock to become stiff as a broadsword again. Whether it was the magic inside Chaery, or the expertise to which he displayed for cunnilingus, Heinrich felt his male pride soaring when she was unable to control herself, huffing and puffing against the bedsheets. He pressed a third finger into her tunnel, feeling extreme resistance, and watching as her face contorted in pleasure/pain that sent her into another fit of muscle contractions and strained breathing. The walls were too tight for this third digit, but he was barely able to force it inside, marveling at the slick heat.
When she appeared to be relatively comfortable with his invasion, the Prince aligned himself more properly, grabbing at the ivory panties with one hand, while deftly lifting her long legs together with his other arm. With a minor struggle around her left ankle, the undergarments were stripped away, and left to dangle on her paw. Then, he spread her legs wide around his, watching amusedly as his cock speared up to her chest level, it's heavy length drooping ever so slightly by the tip. He gripped his cock by the center ridge and shimmied backwards until he was able to push down on it's length, feeling the hotness of her folds as they were manipulated by the head.
"Shit!" Chaery exclaimed when she had regained her balance and was able to lift to her elbows. "Hen! This is a bad idea." She could see the dull crown of the monster as its deep crimson glistened with saliva and her slick excitement.
"If I can just get the head in." Hen concentrated, listening to the moaning wolf beneath him. The head of his massive staff circling her clitoris with and insistent rhythm. "Of course, if the lady objects, we can always rejoin the troops with haste." He lifted his manhood from her burning pussy to emphasize the point.
Her gasp the sudden loss of stimulation, caught even herself off her guard. "Please! Don't stop." When the stiff, leathery cock returned to her lips, she shivered, her tail fluttering beneath. "There's just no way..."
Slowly, he tilted his hips, determined to watch his member slip into the moistness of her internal cavern. With one firm hand, he held his cock along the center, keeping the length from bending with the pressure. The veins on the upper length of his penis, turned a deep violet and bulged. Chaery gritted her teeth at the intrusion, breathing in sharply at the stretching feeling. "Steady." The Prince voiced to himself, holding his breath as he put more pressure on his long thrust. The dam would not break. Her walls held fast, and unyielding, even as the harsh attempt seemed to loosen them slowly. His blunt cock had buried half of the head inside, and it slipped inside further, but to a point. The ridge around his now agonizingly stretched head was trapped outside and appeared immoveable.
Chaery screeched when he attempted a quick short thrust. "Please! Oh god, Hen! Stop!" She expelled her words with one trapped breath. A second, more earnest thrust brought a tear to her eyes. "Please!"
Hen took a deep breath and fell to his haunches again, looking up and seeing the concern in his lover's eyes. "Just one more time, love. Give me one more big try." She nodded, immediately shutting her eyes.
With a caring, but cruel dominance the bull thrust one last time, placing his four hundred pound bulk behind it, and keeping pressure. He was a behemoth, snorting, trying to impale his mammoth sword deep within her. His sheath bulged, rings forming around his length as the skin pressed upon itself like a taught spring. Chaery screamed, and groaned. "Stop! Stop, please!"
For a brief second more he kept pressure, but then kindly pulled back rubbing his sore cock. He was sure to continue his gentle rotations on her lips, watching as the shooting pains she had felt were soothed. He panted, running his fingers along the inside of her orange thigh.
When her eyes opened, he apologized, letting his hard bullhood rest along her belly. "I'm sorry. You were right. I'm getting carried away. Hell, I was the one who said it wouldn't suffice."
Chaery answered with a smile, gripping the Prince's cock in her small hand. "It's alright, my friend. I'm sure we'll have many more chances to try again." Heinrich's ears perked at that comment, and his heart felt a tinge of previously unknown happiness. On shaky elbows, Chaery lifted herself awkwardly to a sitting position, the hard, heavy bull's pride, resting on her shoulder. "Now, that second dose you had promised me. Would it be alright if I helped myself?" She gave it a squeeze.
"You are most welcome to do so, m'lady." The golden breast plate covered his large upper-chest powerfully. With a keen eye, he regarded that the covers were blackened where her fingers had gripped.
"And since it would only be fair." She said, lifting herself to her knees, and extending her muzzle until she was an inch from his twitching ear. She whispered. "I want you to lick me again, and don't fucking stop until I tell you to." In an attempt to take control of the situation, Chaery gave the bull a playful push. It barely registered on his bulky frame, but after a moment's hesitation he realized her intentions and let himself fall to the side, assuming a position among the cushions with his chest to the ceiling.
Chaery was quick to use the outstretched flag-pole for leverage, and swung her knees over the broad chest of her lover, feeling the the cool steel of the armor, contact briefly with her fiery thighs. The bull firmly aided his buxom friend, pulling her back to his dry lips. When his tongue contacted her, she went wild and he felt his length engulfed in pleasure, his balls tensing with the shock. The long cock, made the duty much easier for Chaery as she barely leaned forward to take in the pulsing thing, riding her stud's tongue as wantonly as she desired.
It took only five minutes of her wild thrashing and inexperienced vibrations, to bring the Prince to orgasm. And Chaery, this time, did not let a single drop spill as the thinner fluid filled her gullet. It was a heavy deluge very similar to the first, if only less potent, and the bull was left exhausted and dizzy.
She could feel the power, from her fingertips to the center of her being, and she was drunk on it.
***
The enemy ballistas had formed a perimeter of the battlefield. Chaery was able to count twelve of the monstrous contraptions, each having a crew of ten to fifteen members, who, like slaves, tied themselves in rows and pulled with their combined effort to set the mighty tension locks on the wooden spears. They could not be described truly as heavy spears, but full pinewood tree trunks, measuring over twenty feet, with iron spearheads firmly grafted into the tips like menacing and jagged teeth. The destruction caused by one of the machines was immeasurable; from the story's Chaery had been told, entire castle walls had been crumbled with one well-aimed shot, or church foundations demolished by a miscalculation. And seeing twelve of those battering ram spears having their final winches applied and adjusted as teams loaded ammunition, set Chaery's heart afire. And very shortly thereafter, her entire form.
The Lieutenant, who had expected the worst after her tumble, regarded her newest transformation as it interrupted his steady rhythm. She had simply floated upwards to her position on the wall, and now engulfed in an otherworldly crackling of flames she seared the ground with her steps, arrows crumbling to dust around her. The maiden stepped to the very edge of the Glane castle wall, surveying the battlefield. The Lieutenant could feel the intense heat, forcing himself to look away as it dried his eyes like a bonfire.
To the East, Chaery spied her Prince, his golden flank gleaming as he paraded his men into the heart of the battle. Their blades shined with a blue energy, and as they cleaved and hacked their way through the hordes, the wounded became paralyzed as an icy magic shattered them when they struck the ground. Already the Surwyn nation's regiments were faltering when they witnessed an explosion of ice delivered from the hands of a Bull so large and impressive, he appeared to be a golden god. A golden God wielding the power of ice.
She returned her gaze to the horizon and the line of Ballistas as they made their final preparations. Restraint was beyond her abilities. Her heart seemed to scream out in pain and pleasure. She gave herself fully to the sensation. Her hands clasped together tightly, the vision of the landscape blurred by heat. Slowly, they drifted apart, and shining like a sun within the space between was a growing fireball.
The Lieutenant spun around the parapet as a distant explosion reverberated along the castle wall. All eyes in the valley suddenly turned to the North as a Ballista exploded, it's shattered hull flung almost forty feet into the air. Then, another explosion, followed by another, each one preceded by a line of fire, like a burning red comet, as they connected with their targets. Blood and bone and metal rained down upon the flanking Surwyn regiments, all eyes aglow with the dark power that caused such havoc. One by one the mighty contraptions fell, some launching their ammunition wildly into the battlefield, maiming lines of men. And when the last ballista twisted into the air, the eyes of two entire nations turned and rested upon a gray wolf high on the castle wall.
When she collapsed, she uttered no sound. A vulpine form quickly reached out and wrenched her to safety behind the stone parapet, inches before a shower of arrows and stones blotted out the sky.
The Lieutenant held her to his chest, swiftly breaking off the feathered ends of two arrows that had connected with his left arm. When the dust had cleared, and the tick of arrows across stone had slowed, he risked a strained look onto the battlefield, his right eye peering out from behind the chipped granite. There was chaos. Battle formations had deteriorated on both sides, and groups of soldiers huddled together in masses or sprinted to the hills in fear. However, the finality of the struggle was clearly forming. The Glane had been protected, scattered as the armies were, and the war would soon be over.
His fur was soggy with blood.
She was still softly breathing when he lost consciousness several minutes later.