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The Wild Witch and the Royal Bitch

Princess Llora shouldn't have known about her sister, but she did. With the number of stories floating around about the wild witch, even her parents best efforts to suppress Remei's history were useless. Tales of the wild woman that flew from the castle windows to soar with the snow hawks, run with the great wolves, and swim with the white horned whales ran rampant through the ranks of the servants, and Llora collected each one like a precious gem.

For her, each story was a connection with the sister she never had, the woman she'd never have the chance to know. Being the only heir to the throne of Primia, the young girl was not allowed to socialize with the daughters of the nobility, and she was not allowed out of her quarters until she came of age. Then, she had been told, she would be allowed to see her suitors and start making arrangements for both her future and that of the throne.

That changed when Verdicamp attacked.

From her high chamber, little Llora was forced to watch as great rocs of the north carried the Verdicampene soldiers over the castle walls. Blood of beast and man stained the snow, but Primia's enemies continued to flood the courtyard. The home guard fought valiantly, but were no match against the assembled force of man and beast. Men she had known from childhood, most of whom brought her the forbidden stories, were slain before her eyes.

For at the head of Verdicamp's forces came the wild witch herself, her hair blazing like fire in the icy wind and her body changing with the speed of lightning. At a moment's notice she shifted from human to wolf, and from wolf to bear. Shape after shape flowed over her, the great flame of her hair always present no matter her form, whether as fur, feathers, or scales.

Against the might of her old enemy, Primia was nothing. The home guard was slaughtered, and the enemy entered the palace. From then on, Llora's only knowledge of the fight came from the screams and cries echoing through the halls. Whether Verdicampene or Primian, they sounded the same as they died.

By nightfall, silence had fallen. She walked to the door and opened it a crack, but saw no familiar faces. Instead, armored knights with the banner of Verdicamp on their chests guarded her chambers. Before they could speak she shut the door. She slumped against it, her hands pressed to her eyes as she wept for her kingdom.

For three days she remained in her quarters. Save for a polite knock on the first night, her new guards seemed content to leave her alone so long as she didn't try to leave. The one time she'd made the attempt, a sword had nicked a piece of her door off and only narrowly avoided her fingers. Since then, she hadn't dared approach her door, let alone tried to leave.

At least they continued to feed her. Twice a day a helmeted soldier opened her door and placed a platter of bread, assorted cheeses and meat on the floor, and twice a day she flung her questions and fears at them.

Where were the king and queen?

What was going on?

When would she be allowed to leave?

Her words fell on deaf ears. They left her alone with her food and her room, neither of which could answer her questions.

Her only source of news were the conversations on the wind, blown to her ears from the courtyard below. Verdicampene soldiers talked to each other often, and through hours of piecing the fragments together, she slowly puzzled out what had become of her family.

The wild witch had killed them, though why nobody knew. Was it because of her banishment or on orders from Verdicamp? Or was it both? She was left without any real answer. What was certain, however, was that the wild witch - her sister, Remei - would take the throne and rule the kingdom in Verdicamp's name.

Llora could hardly believe this had happened. The stories of her sister had been brutal, even terrifying, but she assumed that they were exaggerated, made up to villainize the banished princess as much as possible. She never imagined that the stories were true, or that Remei would be capable of doing something so vicious as to kill her own family. Every dream of what they might have had if her parents had been less quick to banish her vanished on the wind.

Yet, Llora was mature enough - even at 7 years of age - to know that she was not out of danger. If her sister was to claim the throne, she would have to account for the proper heir. That, with the king and queen dead, was her. A simple general would have already killed her, she guessed. What was the wild witch's plan in dealing with her?

Her worries - first of her family, then of her fate - were her constant companions for those three days. It was only after the third sunset that the doors opened to someone other than a food bearer. Knights in full regalia stood outside, the first she'd seen in days with their faces exposed, and one stepped forward.

"Her highness, Princess Remei of Verdicamp and Regent of Primia, summons you to her chambers."

"Then I, Princess Llora, shall come."

"You shall, Princess. As often as you're ordered to."

The knight's comment meant little to her as she stood up straight. She looked every inch a proper princess, she knew. Her blond hair rolled down her back in a thick braid, thudding against her spine as she stepped between the knights.

The narrow stairwell forced them to walk shoulder to shoulder, the knights standing in front of her and behind. They formed a square of clanking metal around her, a walking barrier impossible to push through. Whatever temptation she had to run dissipated, though it had not been much to begin with.

They passed four rooms before the stairs curved towards one of the main halls. The tapestries along the walls and the great green carpet running from one end to the other marked it as the south or Greeting Hall. The carpet was soaked with snow and mud, wrinkled and half torn at the edges due to the invading force. Off-duty soldiers assembled here, most with helmets off and with little more decorum than common louts.

She refused to acknowledge them as her escort marched towards the northern door, passing through a trio of corridors before entering the eastern hall. Rather than continuing north to the throne room, they turned east again, towards a tower that overlooked the castle proper. Green and red carpets replaced the solid green from the last hall, and Llora could not suppress her shudders as they entered the first floor of the eastern tower.

Known as the Sealed Tower ever since her sister's banishment, it had been forbidden to everyone ever since. Even she had not been allowed to visit her sister's former quarters, nor had she been allowed to hear of what it was like. Her mother and father had deemed such knowledge unfit for her. Their edict to silence the servants was far more effective on this matter than on the stories of her sister in general.

Unlike the cleaner stairway to her quarters, this narrow stairway stank, not only of neglect and age but of a strange musk. It was sharp, biting, but not like the scent of blood. Rather, it was a salty and bestial smell, like a kennel that had gone too long unwashed. It was off-putting verging on disgusting, and she breathed through her mouth to avoid it.

When they reached the top of the tower, the princess was weary. She leaned against the wall as one Verdicampene knight cracked his gauntlet against the door. The wood was solid, the knight's knock making a dull 'pop' sound rather than a hollow thunk.

"Yes?"

"Your highness, the princess Llora, as summoned."

"You may enter."

Llora stepped forward as the knight opened the door, ducking beneath their arms to avoid being led further. She knew she had to avoid appearing weak or dependent, but she also wished to see what her parents had feared.

The chamber did not disappoint. Other than the enormous bed on the far side of the room, Remei's quarters were something out of a dream. From the ceiling hung candles and furs, glass orbs and wooden pipes. Both of the latter were frozen, their surfaces covered with a layer of colored ice, thicker in comparison to the clean and clear sheets she was used to seeing through her window. In addition, they smelled similar to the stairwell, as though they had been touched by whatever had spread its reek through the tower. Breathing through her mouth was no longer an option, as it brought the taste rather than the smell to her senses.

Arcane symbols darted across the walls. Half were whole, while the rest were slashed through by lines of charcoal, as though someone had tried to break them after her sister's departure. Most of the charcoal showed signs of fading, and the forming ice indicated someone was trying to restore the place.

And in the center of the room, beaming down at her, was Remei herself. Barely an adult, the wild witch's appearance suited her reputation. Rather than a stately dress such as Llora's, she wore a cloak of fur about her shoulders and a long shawl of roc feathers draped over her chest and over her upper legs. It gave the appearance of wearing snow powder to the already pale woman, the illusion unspoiled as the red-haired witch walked towards her on bare feet.

"So this is what my parents have raised. A young girl who is unafraid of my powers."

Llora caught her breath. Clearing her throat, the young princess raised her eyes to meet her sister's green gaze.

"You. You were banished years ago, and the king and queen struck your name from the family line, leaving me the heir to the throne. As that heir, I wish to, to speak to you of terms."

Her voice quaked, but she managed to get to the end without looking down or stammering. Her sister's smile was daunting, but Llora knew she had the words right. She didn't know what half of them meant, but she'd spoken as a proper royal.

Remei said nothing. The witch turned to her guards and dismissed them with a wave of her thin-fingered hand. The knights bowed at the waist, their armor clanging as they beat their fists against their chests before they left. The last one out shut the door behind him with a deep thud, leaving the two princesses alone.

Despite the offer to speak terms, Remei did nothing but circle her. She dared not move. Her sister's eyes were keen and sharp, and her smile bore more and more resemblance to the toothy grin of a wolf. With every circle, she seemed to both move closer and maintain her distance, a fearful but 'proper' stalking.

She stopped behind her, and the young princess felt cold fingers splay across her shoulders. They were tipped with nails as long as claws, painted black. She hoped they were painted; the darkness bore an uncanny resemblance to the bloodstains in the courtyard.

"You wish to discuss terms now, my sister? What concessions might you bring? Our mother and father are dead, their bodies laid to rest beneath the catacombs. Your armies are scattered to the winds and the slopes, chasing the shadows of monsters that never were. Against the might of Verdicamp, their soldiers, and my powers, what do you have to offer?"

Llora shivered as the witch's fiery hair brushed against her cheeks. The warmth shocked her, but far less than her sister biting the edge of her ear.

"Give me a reason to spare your life, dear sister. My soldiers howl for your head like ravenous wolves. With or without their help, it would be so easy to kill you."

Thin fingers stroked inwards along her shoulders, coming to rest along the sides of her neck. The nails slid across her jaw, so sharp that they verged on cutting her. She barely breathed lest she cut her neck on them by accident.

"You are the final heir. Without you, the throne is mine. I have every reason to wish you dead, my pretty little sister. Give me a reason to wish you life."

"I..."

"Yes, dear sister?"

"I..."

Llora gulped. A droplet of blood slipped down the back of her ear, warm on her freezing skin. She felt it hang from her earlobe before her sister licked it up, which sent a shudder of a different sort down her back, one vile and wrong. She bit her lip as Remei's fingers tightened.

"I can crown you. Give you...give you..."

"Legitimacy?"

"Yes, that. I can make...make it official."

"And what, pray tell, would you want? What would you ask in return?"

That voice. It was soft but far from gentle. It was the whistling of the wind through the mountain forest, the hiss of the hunter's arrow flying to its mark.

"My...my life, and those of...the servants. Those still alive."

"My dear, sweet sister, trying to think of these little, selfish people." Remei chuckled. "Did they think of you, I wonder? Locked in your little tower, never allowed to roam, never allowed to be free. Did they think to let you experience that feeling, the joy of the wind, the teeth of the storm?"

Llora's reply was delayed by another yelp as Remei bit her other ear. More blood ran down the side of her ear. It was thin and warm, but no sooner had it reached her jaw than the witch licked it up. The same shudder ran down her back again.

"I propose...a counter-offer, dear sister."

"But -"

"Listen, my pretty little sister." Her fingers tightened around her neck. "You will crown me, and everyone will live. But they, and you, will be at my service at all times. My slightest whim, you see, will be your entire world."

It did not seem so different to what Llora had asked for. The kingdom had been conquered, and those that lived would be required to swear loyalty to the new queen at the ceremony anyway. It was nothing more than any normal queen would receive, the young girl thought.

"I...agree -"

"Excellent."

The wild witch drew the word out, blowing it out like a warm breeze. Her throat opened again as Remei removed her fingers and walked around her, bare feet leaving soft prints on the icy floor. She sat on the edge of her bed, lifting one leg and crossing it over the other. Her eyes wandered to the ceiling, and Llora's followed, drawn in by her own fascination with the alien pieces hanging from the ceiling.

"Do you like my toys, Llora?"

"What?"

"My toys, sister dear, my toys." She gestured to the fur, candles, orbs and pipes. "My trophies of my conquests, and the toys of my past. Such a waste that they were left here; there were so many lonely nights in Verdicamp, so many dark moments that could have been burned away in the proper...heat."

"How could a candle burn away loneliness?"

Remei smirked. As she leaned forward, her hands digging into her sheets, the woman looked half manic.

"A candle's heat is not limited to its flame. Did mother and father teach you nothing?"

Llora shook her head, and the witch smiled as she stood. Her hair suddenly glowed. Red hair became fire before consuming the conquering woman. In her place flew a hawk, and before Llora's eyes it flew to the ceiling. Its sharp beak cut through the cords holding a candle, and it fell into her hands.

The hawk landed at her feet, the red feathers along its head glowing as she transformed into a woman again. Chuckling, the witch took the candle from her.

"A candle means nothing to the winter, but it can mean much to a woman who knows how to use it. Take off your dress."

"What?"

Her response was instant. She pinned Llora to the door, her hand growing huge in the space of a second. The palm and fingers blackened under the growing white fur, while her arm grew both in length and bulk from wrist to shoulder, muscles throbbing and bunching together. A bear's growl to match the bear's arm burst from the witch's throat, yet she still maintained the same deadly smile.

"Don't tell me you already forgot, little sister. You agreed to submit to me and obey me. My whim is your world. Remember?"

"Y-yes."

Nodding, she pulled her hand back. The fur disappeared, as did the muscles. Only the darkened claws remained, and even they soon disappeared, turning back into fingernails.

"Now take off your dress, and everything else under it."

It was difficult to keep from shaking, but somehow she managed it. Her fingers found the ties and buttons on the back of her dress and undid them one by one. Her sister's smile grew with each undoing, but it was far from comforting. Each tooth was pointed, or seemed to be; every time she looked away, it was different.

The dress fell from her shoulders as the last button was undone, leaving her in nothing more than silk leggings and a wrap running from waist to chest. She covered herself, looking away from her sister even as Remei reached out with her candle, tapping her flat chest with a chuckle.

"There seems to be little point covering what isn't there. Don't hesitate now, little Llora. I want everything off."

She hurriedly unwrapped herself, her little nubs stiffening in the cold, and dropped the wrap to the ground. Her leggings were more difficult, but she dragged the soft material down her legs and dropped them to the ground. She leaped on them, shivering as her body broke out in little bumps.

Holding the icy candle like it was a scepter, the witch gestured at her to spread her legs. Llora did, out of fear more than anything. In seconds, the icy wind blowing through the window slapped her, leaving her gasping as her little slit was exposed fully. She didn't even have hair to keep her warm, and she shivered.

"Oh, my dear little sister, you look so cold. Come here, let me show you how a candle can bring you warmth, even in this winter."

"How c-can you s-stand this cold?"

"People are colder than any wind. A person, however...come here."

Llora stepped off of her clothes, her feet freezing on contact with the frozen floor. She hurried across the room, almost leaping onto the bed. It wasn't much better, as the satin and the silk had nearly frozen, but it kept her off of the floor. Her feet were already nearly numb, and the rest of her body was scarcely better. She hugged herself as her sister laughed, the candle spinning between Remei's fingers. It was a fairly tall one, but not very thick, with a wick sticking out like a tiny black knife. Even that was frozen, rendering it useless.

"Lay back, dear sister."

"Wh -" She bit her lip as Remei raised an eyebrow. "Yes, Your Highness."

The sheets crackled as she laid back, her hands unconsciously slipping behind her head to support her in lieu of pillows. It also had the benefit of keeping her back slightly off of the bed. Already half frozen, the benefit of staying warm seemed to outweigh the position's discomfort. As her sister's eyes glanced past her waist to her private place, she began to rethink the idea.

Again the witch gestured with the candle, and again Llora opened her legs. Her sister wiggled the candle repeatedly, and she spread her legs further. The cold slipped between them, freezing her down there like a hand of snow, and she bit back a whimper.

The candle stilled, and she was allowed to stop. Her feet rested on the blankets, almost level to her hips, and her knees pointed towards her chest. The position hurt, and she struggled to hold it. She pulled her hands from behind her head -

"Don't move, dear."

"But -"

"I said -" This time her teeth were pointed, each and every one of them. "Don't move."

"Y-yes, Your Highness."

It was easier said than done. Her legs burned with the effort of holding the pose, and even digging her toes into the frozen sheets didn't help much. Worse, she could feel her private place opening. It had never done that, and it made her feel filthy, even evil.

The cold air was mild compared to the candle's chill. As her sister pressed the yellowed base to her slit, Llora shrieked. Her legs closed halfway before the witch grabbed them, holding them apart and pinning the icy object between her legs.

"Get it away, get it away!"

"No."

"Please, it hurts!"

"No."

"Please!"

"I told you before, dear sister. You live, and so do your servants, as long as you do what I tell you. What was it that I said?"

"It hurts!"

The witch shoved it forward, lodging the icy length an inch or so inside. It felt like she was being impaled on an ice spike, and she shrieked as her private place burned and froze at the same time. Turning her head, she cried against the sheets.

"It will be better, dear sister, if you remember what I said." Remei's face loomed over her, her fiery hair tracing warm lines over her face. "Now, what did I say? Say it back to me."

"Y...your whim...is m-my...my world..."

"And what -" The candle twisted inside of her, tugging at her. "- does that mean?"

"Anything...anything you think of...I do..."

"Hmmm." She chuckled as she slid the candle out. "Not quite, but close enough for now. You need so much teaching. So young, but so naïve."

Still laughing, Remei lowered her head. At first, Llora thought that her sister was going to kiss her forehead, the way that the king and queen did in forgiveness. But no, she was too low for that. And why was -

An open mouth and a warm tongue pressed against her lips. She squirmed as she was pinned, her legs kicking as her lips were licked. It almost tickled, but not the kind that made her laugh. Instead, it brought a strange tingle to her lips, like they were waking up after freezing. It was naughty, she knew that much, but what else was it?

Cold fingers squeezed her jaw until she opened her mouth. If Remei's fingers were ice, then her tongue was fire, searing her mouth with its touch. She gasped, but she was so cold and the tongue was so warm that she stopped squirming. The heat. She needed more of the heat.

Still, she, she wouldn't be improper. She would remain a true princess. Going limp, she 'allowed' her sister to taste her mouth. The warm tongue ran along the insides of her cheeks and along her tongue and lips. It soothed her, as strange as it was. Remei moaned into the 'kiss', and she blushed. If her head had been free, she might have turned away. Might have.

Again and again her sister's tongue dove into her mouth, going halfway to the back of her throat before pulling back. Despite herself, she started to taste her sister in turn. It was not what she expected. Mostly it felt slimy, wet, but beneath that there was a salty taste. Once again it felt familiar, but she couldn't recall what it was.

It shamed her that she felt the warmth spreading from her mouth the longer that the kiss went on. A budding heat spread from her middle, sending strange tingles through her little frame. Her breathing sped up, but with the kiss she could barely get the air she needed, and started to squirm.

The witch pulled back with a chuckle, allowing her to sit up and gasp for air.

The witch leaned to the side, her fingers running down the princess's flesh. They drew chilling lines through the fading warmth, going further and further down until they reached her thigh. Llora shuddered as the fingers moved up again, settling between her legs. She heard a soft squelch as they pressed against her private place, and she blushed, though she didn't know why.

"Ah, you do love the fire touch, don't you, dear sister?"

"W-what's that?"

"Just one reason our dear mother and father didn't trust me." Remei stroked her wet fingers through her hair. "Not a single other woman with red hair in the castle, nor a man with it. Yet, here I am, born with this. The touch of fire. The touch of consumption."

Llora stared blankly. This was all new to her, as none of her teachers had been allowed to talk about her sister or witchcraft.

"My magic, my little pretty princess. Fire changes and consumes. It can never be satisfied, and neither can I."

"Does that mean that, that you'll consume me?"

"Every day in every way, sweet one." Remei licked her fingers, chuckling to herself. "Just as sweet as you were before I was banished."

"You mean -"

"I could never resist someone so delightful, so tasty, so pretty as you."

Once more Remei raised the candle. The base was wet with melted ice and the slight moisture it had sparked from her slit. The same musky smell from the hall returned, stronger than ever. Again she was reminded of a dog or a wolf, but her memory was buried under the thought of where the candle was going. It hurt last time, and it would hurt again.

Were it not for the lives of others, she would have refused to go along with this. As it was, their lives were on the line, and depended on her obedience to her sister.

Her legs moved without resistance as the witch gestured with the candle. The cold but melting ice brushed against her thighs, passing from one leg to the other several times before it was lifted it to her slit. She clenched her teeth as the witch smiled.

"To think, my first toy will be yours as well."

The candle's slow insertion robbed her of speech and forced her to focus on ignoring the pain. It stung as it slipped into her, but this time it was less of a shock. Painful as it was, she was somewhat prepared -

"Ah!"

She gasped as Remei kissed her just above the candle. Warm lips pressed against her slit and the little hood above it, and each time they sent a new wave of heat through her. The tingles warmed her again, but this was far stronger than the feelings from the kiss.

Her sister was merciless with her tongue. Lapping from frozen candle to wet slit, she teased her, opening her and leaving her gasping. Each lick, each kiss made her throb with a strange but growing hunger. The pleasure left her flat on her back, her legs twitching and spasming at the strange - but pleasant - sensations. Under Remei's ministrations, she felt the candle melting, the ice fading as her body burned it away. Her slit accepted more of the candle inside, and the room's already strong odor grew worse, the smell of...of...

Of her juices, she realized. Of both their juices. This candle was soaked in her sister's wetness, frozen over time and finally melting. She shuddered. It was such a disgusting thing, reprehensible, yet...

Yet at the same time, she felt a new burst of heat at the thought. No, that couldn't be right. The warmth was the only thing she had; if it thought this was good, then the warmth had to be bad, because that was bad. She sat up, fully intent on pushing her sister and the candle away.

No sooner had she reached a half-seated position than the candle pushed in further, gliding on the melted liquid pouring out of her slit and pooling under her bottom. The candle rubbed against something hard inside her, and she gasped at how full it made her feel. She whimpered as her face burned as hot as a fireplace at how wrong this was.

"Say it again, dear sister."

"Your whim is my, my world."

"Again."

"Your whim is my world."

"Again!"

"Your whim is my world!"

"And my whim is to see you warm, heated, and forever hungry like me."

The candle thrust forward, breaking past whatever was in its way. She arched her back and screamed, her eyes rolling back in her head as chilled blood rushed past the candle, mixing with the scented juices below. It left thin red lines along her thighs and pink stains against her bottom. Again her face flushed, and she looked away.

Remei chuckled, red strands of hair blazing like torchlight as she drove the candle in and out of Llora's little slit. Each push shoved out more of her virgin blood, each little swell thinner than the last. By the tenth insertion, no more blood flowed, either forced out or frozen within her. Llora didn't know which. All she knew was that she was numb inside.

But as she was filled again, the warmth returned. Most of the ice was gone, and as her body slowly accepted the waxy length, she felt it heating up inside. Hesitantly, she lifted her head to watch what her sister was doing.

Before, her slit had been a tiny valley between her legs topped with a barely visible nub. With her legs apart, she could see pink inside, and it looked like her skin was growing out like a flower past the pale cliffs atop the valley of her slit. She shuddered, covering her eyes before Remei pulled her hands down, forcing her to watch as the candle slid inside, making wet slurping sounds as it plunged into her and forcing her slit to leak all sorts of strange liquids.

The more she watched, the more the tingles spread, particularly when Remei tilted the candle to rub against her nub. Every time she felt it, she gasped. It felt so good, warming her up, but it was wrong. This wasn't what princesses did. They were good girls, not like...like...

Another plunge and she moaned, her slit oozing. She wasn't sure how much of it was hers and how much of it was her sister's anymore, but it was warm, pooling beneath her legs and keeping her from freezing. The heat spreading from her slit helped, too.

Remei encouraged her, pulling her hips towards the candle as it slid it in. Only about half of the candle could fit inside her, and to her eternal gratitude, her sister didn't force it further. Her body started to move by itself, thrusting against the candle without her sister's help. It was shameful, but it was warm, and it...It was good. It felt...it felt good. Very good, like a fire burning inside of her and keeping out the cold.

"It's coming, isn't it, dear sister? You can feel it building."

"Yes...yes."

"Let it come. Let the fire warm you."

Whimpering, she was helpless as the fire exploded in her, her body suddenly filled with massive, strange pleasure. She had never imagined feelings like this existed, and she shook as Remei supported her and forced her to look at her slit. It quivered and trembled, extra juices flowing around the candle inside of her. It both disgusted her and thrilled her, and she didn't know why.

She fell back, panting and shuddering. Her sister left the bed, only to return with rope. In moments, she was tied down, her ankles pulled into the air by the loops around them, and her arms held above her head. Her legs were pulled up and her body followed, lifted until she could see the candle sticking out of her. When Remei was satisfied, she squatted at the foot of the bed. The bed creaked slightly as the princess - the queen now - held a strand of her hair near the candle's wick.

"What are you doing?"

"You will burn with need, and heat, and lust, just as I will. That is my whim."

"My whim is your world..."

"Yes. Your entire world will be one of heat. I promise you."

The wick burst into flame on contact with the witch's hair, and Llora felt a new fire spread through her. It was different from the one that she'd felt from the candle before. Rather than a slow building explosion, this was a constant burning, a searing need inside that demanded fuel.

She shuddered as her sister got off of the bed. Little droplets burst from her pores, something that hadn't happened for months, and she shuddered as she felt slick and wet all over. The candlelight reflected off of her belly and flat chest, making her shine.

Remei smiled as she removed her cloak. The dress slid off after, the feathery down falling to her ankles and baring her completely. Unlike Llora, the cold didn't seem to bother her. She stood with her hands on her hips, her hair cascading over her shoulders and half down her breasts, stopping a few inches above her nipples. Pale fingers rose and circled them, and they hardened as Llora watched.

"You are an appealing girl, my dear sister. You will make a more appealing bitch."

The harsh word stung the little girl, but it set off another twitch inside her. She shuddered as she clamped down on the candle. Little trails of juices ran over her nub, sending shivers down her spine as it spilled down her groin and belly. The witch turned to the door, laying a hand on the handle-ring and pulling it open. Two knights, their heads hidden behind the same large, covered helmets that the others had worn, stepped inside at the witch's gesture.

Llora watched as the naked witch ran her hands down their armor, throwing fiery glances their way through half open eyes.

"My new family has been good to me, sweet sister. Not only have they adopted me, taken me into their home, but they have been very accommodating to my abilities, as well."

"What...you mean, you -"

The knights took off their helmets. Underneath were not the faces of men, but beasts. Wolfish muzzles pushed forth, black noses twitching at the room's scent. A dull growl rumbled in their chests, and their fur was matted with sweat.

"My soldiers are loyal to their alpha. They know who is in charge, and they are happy to serve. After all, they have needs, and I am the only one that can...fulfill them."

Stripping themselves as quickly as they could, the walking wolves were soon fully on display. They were hairy and thick chested, their fur a deep silver gray. Great muscles stood out beneath their fur, and while their legs were bestially formed, she could see the semblance of humanity remaining in both of them.

That semblance did not extend far, however. Standing out from their groins were truly bestial lengths. The breeding of the dogs in the kennel had given her some insight about what dogs looked like, but this, this was far beyond that. Red, veiny shafts stood out from furry pouches, easily more than twice the length of her hand. The base was supported by a swelling bulb, throbbing with each panting breath they took. Beneath them was a hairy pouch, slightly bigger than her fist. They dripped with moisture, droplets freezing shortly leaving their fur. The odor coming off of them was the male equivalent to the 'bitch' smell that filled this chamber. The thought of her sister doing such things both frightened and warmed her.

They stood at her sister's sides, and their tongues lolled out as the witch grabbed their shafts. Idiotic grins crossed their muzzles as they were stroked, and Remei laughed.

"You see how simple their needs are, my dear? Such eager boys, ready to fight, die, and fuck for me, all in exchange for having someone to fulfill their needs when they are done. Isn't that right, my little soldiers?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

"Yes, Your Highness."

"Such good, good boys. You deserve a little bit more than this, don't you, for keeping my sister safe and dealing with all of those nasty guards that were going to smuggle her away from me." She chuckled as she took her hands away. "Pick who will go first. I have a few more things to say to my sister."

As the wolves growled at one another, Remei laid herself on the bed. She stroked her hand along Llora's belly, leaving the little princess shuddering. She was sweating like she had been laid over a fire, leaving her slick and wet.

"What's h-happening to me, Remei?"

"Your Highness, please."

"Y-your Highness."

"Yes?"

"What's happening to me, Your Highness?"

"Mmm, dear, sweet little Llora. All that time in Verdicamp, and I never forgot about you. The little girl in her cradle, and her sweet little sex. Quite a few lonely nights were spent thinking of you, and how I would handle you when I finally returned. I had so many plans, but I finally decided just last night what I would do."

She gestured at the wolves. They continued to growl at each other, but one had fallen to all fours, while the other stood by the foot of the bed, teasing himself.

"My boys are obedient, but they are very needy, just like me. I've been so busy dealing with them that I barely have time for myself anymore. I want one person that will serve me because they need me, not because I can do something for them. And that, dear Llora, will be you. You will be my little bitch, and I promise you, you will love every second of your new life."

"I'll be - you mean, like them?"

Remei nodded.

"And I'll -"

"Be forever hungry, forever needy, as soon as this candle burns down."

The candle. Llora looked up at it. The wick was burning away, and it had already sunk about a half inch down since the lighting a few minutes ago. For once, her shudder wasn't from the cold. Whether it was natural or unnatural, she could feel a fire burning in her belly already, and it was only getting stronger the longer that the candle burned.

Laughing, the witch climbed off of the bed and grabbed hold of the waiting wolf-man. He growled in a pleading way, like a dog needing care.

"Yes, you will sate yourself. Don't worry."

As her sister guided her partner to the head of the bed, Llora looked at her body. This had to be a joke. She wasn't turning into a wolf creature. The heat in her had to be warming magic, not some devilry that would -

Her thoughts came to a halt as she saw something new. At the very base of the candle a dusting of hair was starting to grow. It wasn't the blond color on top of her head, nor was it the red of her sister. Instead, it was the silver gray of a timberwolf. Remei had a perfect view of it as well.

"Oh look, my sister is growing her woman's coat. Such a good girl to mature so early."

Shudders ran down her spine. She knew a woman grew hair down there when they were of age, but she had never thought it would look like this. It was not the blond strands she imagined but rather bestial fur, slowly spreading around her slit. The sweat on her skin was covered and trapped, and she could smell her own scent growing stronger.

The other wolf-man snorted as he looked up at her. He took a half step before Remei stopped him with a stomp of her foot.

"Nobody touches her. Not until I am finished."

Despite growling in frustration, the wolf-man lowered himself to the floor. However, his eyes remained locked on the space between Llora's legs, and she could see his nose twitching as he breathed in her scent.

She was distracted by her sister's moans, and she turned her head. The wolf-man loomed over the witch, and his shaft was lodged deep in Remei's slit. She watched as the red length slid in and out, the bulb at the bottom growing and slapping against her sister loudly. Despite the size, the witch obviously enjoyed being rutted and taken by the wolf-man. Her moans filled the entire chamber, loud enough that Llora was shocked nobody came to check on them.

The wolf-man's hands tightened around her sister's hips, the claws digging in until small red lines ran down her pale flesh. Despite the obvious pain, she didn't scream. If anything, her moans grew louder, the wild witch throwing her head back and digging her fingers into the wall. Her hair glowed, fingers turning to claws as her slit momentarily turned triangular before changing back. Howls, barks, and yips mixed with her human moans as she was taken.

A near constant stream of liquid ran down her legs. Every passing minute added to the stench in the room, and it affected everyone, not just the wolf-men. Llora's fingers twitched as her arms tugged on the bindings, immature instincts trying to pull her hands to her slit, but she was bound too tightly to do anything.

She looked at the candle, trying to guess how much time she had left. The wax had continued melting, bits of it running down the side. About an inch, maybe an inch and a half had melted away, and there was still more than three inches to go. She tensed up as the melting streams of was drizzled down towards her slit, bunching her hands into fists as it got close.

Amazingly, it didn't burn. Well, it did, but not painfully. Her back arched as another mini-burst of heat exploded in her belly, setting her spasming and shaking on the bed. Wax droplets flew across the room, and she screamed. Oh, heavens did she scream.

"Oh, look at her. Such a growing girl, already having a woman's orgasm. Soon she'll have the body to go with it."

The changes continued. As she caught her breath, she saw that the fur had spread. It covered her from hips to neck. She'd barely been out of it a few minutes, but it had already spread so far. Everywhere it touched left her warmer than before. The fur held the heat in, but it also held her scent. It was matted down and soaking wet, and clung so tightly that the next change was obvious from the start.

Her nipples slowly pushed out of the fur. At first, she thought that they were just getting hard, but as they continued to push outwards, lifted up by small hills of flesh, it was obvious this was another change. She moaned as the tingling heat burned beneath her growing breasts and filling them up. Like the bags above the alchemist's fires, her chest slowly grew, filling bigger and rising higher with each breath.

She gasped and panted, her swelling breasts shaking and jiggling in response. Whimpering at the sight of them, she looked away in a vague attempt to ignore them. With the weight that came with them and the feeling of them jiggling whenever she moved, however, that was impossible.

Their growth was slow, but undeniable. They rose from her fur, forcing it to grow faster to catch up. The flesh would be exposed, then covered, then exposed again as they grew. They soon ceased fitting her small body, and yet they continued to expand. Her nipples were hard and pointed, and even they were growing. It was harder to see because of how little they changed, but every time she looked away, she saw that they'd grown bigger and longer in the meantime.

It took them forever to stop, and when they finally did, Remei was screaming her pleasure. Llora yanked her eyes away from her breasts - not an easy feat, as they almost buried her face - and looked to her sister. The witch was completely filled by the wolf-man, including that strange bulb. Despite the massive tool within her, white goo oozed out of her, sliding down her legs to join the puddle below.

Remei looked back at her, chuckling and smiling as she patted the wolf-man behind her. She wiggled back and forth, pulling herself free with frightening ease. As the wolf-man's shaft was removed, she had the perfect view of her sister's sopping wet slit, oozing with canine seed and dripping with her own lust.

"This, my sweet sister, is what the power of magic does. You can never be satisfied, never be fulfilled. And soon, you will bear that same touch. The candle burns ever lower, and your fate comes ever closer."

What else could change? The fur covered her from head to toe. Every part of her body was smothered in it like a thick blanket in summer. Her slit gushed with juices just like her sister's, and it puddled beneath her breasts. Worse, she could smell it on herself, the scent soaking into her like an indelible mark.

Yet more changes were left, and she groaned as her legs pushed upwards. The ropes around her ankles remained tight, but her back slowly lowered towards the bed. Her legs getting longer, she realized, but she could barely feel it. All she could feel was the heat, the tingle and the pleasure and the building hunger inside as she changed.

Her hips humped at the candle as her body stretched. She thought that it should hurt, but it didn't. Instead, she felt almost relaxed, her body getting resting as it was growing too large to be held up by the ropes. She alternated between sighs of relief and pants of need, grinding upwards to get some relief.

Sitting beside her with her slit still oozing, her sister flicked the candle. The twitch it sent through her rolled her eyes back in pleasure.

"Such a good little bitch. You'll do your queen proud."

"Your whim...your whim is my...my world."

"Yes, little sister. Keep repeating that."

She did, the phrase ingraining itself on her mind with every repetition. It was her anchor, and she didn't care if she drowned herself with it as long as she could hold onto it.

Bit by bit her frame extended, the candle burning down as she reached a new height. It soared past her sister's and continued upwards, soon leaving her lying flat on her back rather than on her shoulders. The wolf-men panted at her as she continued to leak, their tongues lolling out and their shafts drooling.

When barely an inch of the candle still poked out, the tingling shifted again. The fires inside moved from her chest and her spine to her hips and her face, to her feet and her hands, everywhere that was still remotely human. The magic was intent on leaving her with nothing, and she could feel her humanity being burnt away.

Her sister's hands stroked her as she laid there, massaging her fingers, her arms, and her face. Under Remei's touch, the changes felt like a gift, and Llora smiled as she felt the fires inside burning away. Looking at her legs, she saw the first changes. Her knees pulled upwards, drawing closer to her hips. They crept up along her legs at a lazy pace, taking their time to adjust. It was fascinating to watch as her body was manipulated by magic.

It felt like cracking her knuckles when her heels and ankles shifted, pulling upwards just like her knees. Her toes and the ball of her foot pointed forward in response, the little digits swelling at the tip for a moment or two before the skin snapped. Gleaming black claws emerged, shimmering in the fading candlelight. They were short and blunted, but in some small part of her mind, she knew that they would be a small weapon.

Under Remei's massaging fingers, she felt her hands change. Her fingers thickened and swelled, just like her toes. Eventually the ends cracked open, a claw poking out of each finger and extending her grip. As her hands were turned to face upwards, her palms darkened. The flesh turned rough, a grayish black that stood out in stark contrast to her fur. The padding spread along her fingers, and when she wrapped her fingers around Remei's hand, the difference in her grip was obvious.

The candle was almost down to her slit when the witch grasped her head. Cold hands rubbed her cheeks, stroking and fondling her as the fire reforged her face. She felt the same growing sensation as she'd felt in her chest, but this one was sharper. Her teeth itched as they re-shaped, new points pricking her tongue as she touched them. Even her tongue changed, growing more sensitive even as her mouth seemed less spacious.

Suddenly her tongue flopped out, and she saw why. It was longer than any human's, and it lolled out of her mouth like a panting dog's. It bounced with each breath she took, and hung down to her neck.

Her face continued to change. Her jaw groaned as it pushed outwards, her nose and her lips carried along. Guided by the fire and the witch's brushing hands, her face grew more pointed, her cheeks caving in slightly and emphasing her muzzle. Her nose steadily darkened as it stretched further away from where it had been, and her lips felt rubbery, wet and loose.

"You're almost there, little Llora. You're almost done."

"Yes...Your Highness."

She squirmed as her face changed, her body ablaze with the flames of her sister's magic. Even things that should have hurt - the cracking bones growing longer, the points of her teeth pricking her tongue, or her head flattening at the front - only brought her pleasure, pleasure and heat. She moaned, arching her back as the juices from her slit threatened to drown out the candlelight.

As her ears sprouted, she felt a growth in her back. The wolf-men lifted her just in time for a tail to break through her flesh. She writhed in their grip, her tail wagging as it slid out. Her eyes drifted to the two wolf-men. Their shafts still bobbed and throbbed in the cold air. Her sister had enjoyed riding them; could it feel as good as the candle, if she were to do the same?

The thought was like a bucket of cold water, and she shuddered in revulsion. How could she think that? She didn't even know what the goo in her sister was. Her sister had 'laid with beasts'. She didn't know what else could be laid with, but she remembered that it was wrong.

Despite her disgust, the heat between her legs continued to bring her gaze back to the wolf-men and their shafts. It was difficult not to think about them; the candle was burning away, and she felt the hunger growing. What would happen when the candle was gone? Would she still be able to resist the temptation?

Suddenly, the candle flame disappeared. For a moment, she felt a chill, but then the heat returned. She arched her back, howling as a bonfire sprang to life in her belly. She thrashed in her bindings, shaking her head and gnashing her teeth. Her hips bucked repeatedly, and her ankles almost slipped free from the ropes. The juices that drooling from her slit doubled, tripled as the heat overwhelmed her, and she whined and whimpered like a true...true bitch as she felt emptier than the poorest peasant's cupboard.

"What...what is happening...to me?"

Even her voice was different. While feminine, it had become guttural as well. She felt like she was speaking through ground ice, but she couldn't help but ask again.

"What's happening...to me?"

"Sister, sister. You're experiencing exactly what I promised. A lifetime of warmth, an eternity of heat."

Remei's fingers slid through clear juices and white goo as she fingering herself. The witch smiled down at her, moving to straddle the no-longer-little princess's chest. The juices soaked into her fur, and with her new nose she could smell every single scent in that mess, including juices over a week old. Dozens of males had used her sister, and she'd know the scent of any of them now.

"I knew you would be a fine bitch wolf, Llora. In time, you will come to enjoy your heat. It's a wonderful thing, even if it will drive you mad at times."

"But I-I d-don't want this!"

"My dear. I'm afraid you don't have a choice."

She slid forward along her fuzzy chest, slit spread open from the mating she'd received. The juices drooled over Llora's prominent breasts before dripping on her chin. It took all of her willpower not to lick it.

"Say it again, Llora. Say it for me."

"Your whim...is my world."

"And my whim, sweet sister, is for you to serve me. Always." The witch slid forward, her slit open against Llora's nose. "Serve me, and your heat will never be unsatisfied. Serve me, make me happy, and I promise, you will be happier than ever."

The smells made her body beg to submit and serve, but not as much as the heat in her belly did. Her heat pleaded for relief, and the knowledge that her sister would help her if she gave 'service' pushed her to give in. The innocent little girl in her cried out against this thing she barely understandood, but the wolf she had become knew what it needed.

Ever so slowly, her mouth opened again. Her tongue pushed out, hesitating before inching closer. Remei watched, her smile growing and her slit growing wetter the closer the wolf's tongue got. Tears slid down Llora's face, but she wasn't sure if they were tears of need or frustration, of confusion or hunger.

Finally, her tongue met flesh. The taste of salt and musk drowned her thoughts, and her eyes rolled back at the potent cocktail. She bucked upwards, her hips unable to be still as she dragged her tongue along her sister's slit. The witch bucked forward, dragging her oozing opening along the wolf's tongue, and Llora could do nothing to stop her.

She licked again, getting a stronger dose of the taste. Again, and a deeper, more womanly flavor began to emerge. It intrigued her, despite the perversity of the situation, and the wolf licked again before she could stop herself, digging her new tongue inside. It was far from tight, and the juices coated her tongue immediately.

Her sister was as in heat as she was, Llora realized. This same need that filled her filled Remei, and she had to deal with it all the time.

The witch pulled back, panting and gasping. The hunter's smile had faded, but only slightly, replaced by a victorious smirk. Tugging on the ropes, she pulled the wolf-woman's legs further into the air. She wasn't lifted off the bed this time, just had her legs up and spread, exposing her private place to the wolf-men. Both of them sniffed at her before growling at each other, just like when her sister had offered herself to them.

With the princess's body in place, Remei leaped back on the bed. Squatting over her face, the witch ground herself against her sister's muzzle.

"You will not regret your choice to submit, little Llora. My knights will give you pleasure, just as they have mine. And you, my dear, will bring me something better."

"What...what will I bring you?"

"Satisfaction."

With that, the witch pressed down. Rather than pausing to be tasted again, she slid down the wolf's nose and muzzle. The princess's eyes went wide as her sister descended along her muzzle, swallowing it inside of her. Instantly her fur was matted down by the sheer amount of moisture inside of the witch, forcing her to hold her breath, lest she drown.

Waving one of the wolf-men over, Remei forced her legs further apart. The eager canine walked up to the bed, his hot shaft grinding against her leaking slit. It was hot, but not as hot as her insides felt. She bucked towards him without meaning to, and her eyes went wide as her slit swallowed his tip.

"Oooh, such an eager girl. Well, little Llora, if you want a breeding, you'll have it. Take her."

The wolf-man and witch moved as one, the wolf slamming inside her as the witch's slit reached the base of her muzzle. She couldn't even scream as her jaws were pinned together by the powerful muscles between her sister's legs. Only whimpers escaped, and she couldn't even hear herself over the wet humping of her captors.

Yet she moaned between whimpers. The length inside her hammered deep, pumping into her body and leaving behind something soothing. Her arms twitched, but the bindings still held strong. She didn't know what she would have done - pushed her sister away, embraced her, taken them both - but she would have done something, anything instead of being pinned.

Womanly juices leaked down her muzzle and covered her eyes. The scent of another woman in heat drove her need hotter, and she moaned as she blinked her eyes clear. Her sister's sex shifted, turning from human to canine to bear to something alien back to human again. With each transformation the taste and smell changed, but never lost that integral core that was Remei. She groaned as she was forced to experience her sister with every bounce, her mouth forced slightly open every time and fed with her sister's hot juices.

They used her hard. The wolf's shaft plunged into her, sliding her along the bed and grinding her muzzle against her sister, and the witch's pussy pinned her down as the wolf pulled out of her again. Every time they moved, they reminded her of her status as a bitch toy.

Her mind faded as it went on, thoughts fading into a warm mush. The hungry fire inside grew dim as she was filled, the knot battering at her slit and making her want it. She wanted to feel that goo, hoping it would quench her heat. Despite her need, she could barely move. Not because of the bonds, but because of the blackness at the edge of her vision. She couldn't breathe, and her sister had been grinding and bouncing her muzzle for more than a minute. She squirmed weakly, her eyes fluttering as she was covered in their scent, but nobody seemed to understand. Blackness became tunnel vision, and the world -

"Oh Llora...my...Llora!"

Her muzzle was suddenly free, and a hot gush squirted over her face and chest. Llora sucked in air - delicious, arousal laden air - just as the wolf-man rammed his knot inside.

She howled with him as he knotted her, their bestial cry filling the chamber and echoing out the window. Remei joined them, throwing her head back with a laugh that turned into a joyful howl, her head as wolfish as theirs. The heat never died, but it diminished as she was filled.

The knight did not pull out of her as he had from Remei, but instead slowly turned around with his cock still in her and got to all fours. He stood there patiently as her sister laid down at her side.

"You were wonderful, my dear."

"I a-almost -"

"Hush, little Llora."

She fell silent, particularly as her sister reached down and stroked a finger along her slit. Circling that little nub almost felt as good as being filled.

"What is your world, sweet sister?"

"Your whim. Your whim is my world."

"Yes, it is. As my whims often change, so will your world."

"And, what is your whim now?"

"To rest, for now. To change you for coronation later. But for now, rest. Rest, little Llora; you'll need it for later."

Leaning her head back on the bed, she sighed to herself. Even now, a part of her wanted more, but that was the heat inside her. Wasn't it? She couldn't actually want to be a bitch...

Could she?

The End