by Unknown
It was the long, black tail I saw swishing back and forth behind her back that brought my breath back, in one long groan, expressing both the pleasure of her sliding herself down onto my shaft and my sudden astonishment and dismay. Katie was purring louder now as she began to ride me, making little kitten noises as she rolled her hips.
Her eyes closed, concentrating on the sensation between her legs, and I started getting lost in my own. God damn, she felt good—I had to fight my first instinct to throw her off me in my shock, but I was starting to be carried away by the delicious, slick squeeze of her pussy. When I closed my eyes, I could imagine it was Katie—it was Katie—grinding herself on top of me.
My hands fell to her thighs, the long muscles in her legs working her up and down, and I felt the soft black fur there, running my fingers through it in wonder. She pressed her hands—paws?—down against me and began kneading my belly just like a kitten would. I didn’t feel any claws, but the sensation of her massaging my stomach while she made little circles on my cock was glorious.
She started making louder mewing sounds, little cries that sent shivers through me. I felt her muscles quivering around my cock, and I watched her face in the dimness, seeing the unmistakable shudder and tremble of an orgasm hovering there.
I wanted to be the one to take her there, and that’s what finally moved me. I grabbed her hips—oh god, she was covered in fur there too, luxuriously soft under my hands—thrusting deep up inside of her.
“Oh yes!” she cried, and I watched her knead her breasts, the tips of her fingers rubbing the nipples again and again. “Oh, Sebastian, yes!”
I groaned at the sound of my name in her mouth when she was so close, and I drove a little harder, a little faster, watching her ride the wave starting to overtake her. She leaned into me, biting her lip and gripping me with her thighs.
It happened like that, her body thundering with the quiet roar of her purr as she rubbed herself on top of me. I felt the rhythmic quaver of her cunt, the light fluttering of her muscles squeezing and releasing my cock as she gripped my shoulders, her claws sinking into my flesh, making me gasp.
“Oh god,” she whispered, and I winced as I felt her retracting her claws. I knew I had to be bleeding. It stung like a bitch. She was still purring like crazy, and I felt the wet pulse of her all around me.
I reached to touch her face as she rested against my chest. It was her face still, the delicate features, the little freckled nose, but there were whiskers emerging from her cheeks that quivered when I touched her and her ears twitched on the top of her dark head. The fur all over her body was sleek and black, covering every part of her except for her belly and breasts.
I looked at her in wonder, still not quite believing what I was seeing. “Are you okay?”
It was probably the dumbest thing in the world to say, but it was all I could think of. What was I supposed to ask? ‘Did you turn into a cat?’ My senses were telling me what had happened—it was my rational mind that needed to catch up.
“More than okay.” When she smiled and climbed off me, nuzzling my cock with her soft, furry head, like she wanted her ears scratched, my senses threatened to take over again.
When she turned around and presented her behind to me like an offering, and I saw her, open and exposed, her pussy lips swollen and wet, her black tail rising in the air and curving at the tip like a question mark, my senses weren’t threatening anymore—they overpowered everything else.
My cock knew exactly what it wanted and it jerked me up until I was kneeling behind her, spreading her lips with my fingers. I couldn’t resist tasting her, slipping my tongue into the softness between her thighs. It was a shock not to feel the wiry sensation of pubic hair against my lips, but rather a slick, light fuzz that gave way to the pink flesh of her pussy.
She purred loudly as I licked her from behind, lifting her ass high in the air so I could slide a finger into her wetness. Her tail twitched above my head, back and forth, putting her whole bottom on display, the pink tender flesh of her cunt and the little wink of her tiny asshole. I wanted to press my finger there, but I didn’t dare.
When I slid a hand down the fur along her spine, from her neck to her lower back, she arched, first down and then up, her pelvis tilting with the motion. When her bottom rose up again like that, I groaned, feeling my cock jump. I wanted her. I had to have her.
Kneeling up between her legs, I pressed my cock into the pink heat of her flesh. She cried out when I slid into her, burying myself balls-deep. Her tail swished slowly back and forth in front of my face as she arched, meeting my thrusts. The light was nearly gone now, but I saw her kneading the mattress in front of her, and I felt the roar of her purr deep in my pelvis. I could actually feel it vibrating my cock. It was extraordinary.
I grabbed her furry hips, feeling the shock of her fur-covered thighs every time I drove back into her. She made little mewing cries, louder and louder, and still the purring went on underneath, like a running motor, signaling her pleasure. She arched back, again and again, still massaging the mattress like it was clay or something she could shape and form with the heat and pressure of her hands.
“Oh god, Katie,” I groaned, feeling her tail curling around my back, the tug of it pulling me deeper as she rounded her spine and arched, again and again, purring and mewing all the while. I couldn’t stand much more, and I think she knew it.
“I want your cum,” she purred, the sound of her voice trembling with a soft vibrato. “Fill this pussy, baby.”
Oh, fuck! That was it—I jerked up hard against her fur-covered flesh, grunting as I thrust my cum into her, waves of hot, white fluid pulsing deep into her body. She mewed softly, and I felt the quivering of her muscles around me and I moaned louder as she came again around my cock, milking my shaft with her cunt.
When I slid out of her, she mewed again, a forlorn sound, and she turned around, nuzzling her head against my belly and chest, rubbing her velvety ears against me. Breathless, I collapsed back onto the bed and she followed, crawling up me and settling against my side, her furry thigh over mine, her whiskers tickling my cheek.
I stared up at the ceiling and listened to her purring, soft now, a low, contented sound. I waited until I was sure she was asleep before I tried slipping out from beneath her. She sighed and moved around on the bed a little, adjusting herself to my absence, but she stayed asleep. I could barely make out her outline on the bed now, but I knew what I’d seen, what I’d experienced. I grabbed my clothes, tugging them on as I headed out the door.
* * * *
I sat staring into the glowing square of the computer at the figure on the screen. I had typed one word into the library computer’s search engine: “Bast,” and had come up with 2,940,000 results. It wasn’t long before I found what I was looking for though. I clicked over to “images” and there it was—the little statue of the cat Katie wore around her neck.
It was the only explanation I could imagine.
The page read: “Bast is the daughter of Ra, and she is the intrinsic, instinctive rage of the sun-god. Bast is his instrument of vengeance. She is the cat-goddess of the Egyptian civilization who destroys vermin, but yet, she is approachable, if you are fearless, and she can be stroked.”
I sat there lost in my own thoughts for a long time. Too long. Students came and went. The librarian came over the speaker to tell patrons the library was closing in ten minutes. I didn’t think about Katie, alone in the apartment. Not until I pulled into our parking lot and shut off the engine. Sliding my keys into my pocket, I found the baseball cards I’d slipped in there. They were where Katie had remembered, but they were too high up on a shelf for her to reach, far in the back, in an unlabeled box. The pawn shop had confirmed their worth, all right. I was effectively carrying around $200,000 in my pocket.
I got out of the car, frowning at the house. It was quiet for a Friday night. That’s when I heard Cujo barking frantically upstairs.
When I rounded the corner, I saw Sass
y sitting on our front steps, licking her paw and washing her ear. That was my first hint, and it jolted my numbed and overloaded senses awake again. I bolted to the top of the stairs to find the door wide open.
“Katie!”
I heard her crying. Oh, thank god. I closed my eyes for a moment. She’s alive.
I ran back to the bedroom, flipping on the overhead light. She was crouched on the bed, and I had a moment of deja-vu, remembering Sassy sitting on the step, washing herself. Katie looked almost the same, except that her black fur was matted in blood.
“Oh my god,” I breathed, seeing blood all over the covers. I looked her over to find where it was coming from. “Where are you hurt?”
“It’s not me,” she croaked, pointing to the other side of the bed.
When I peered over the side, I somehow already knew what I was going to find. It was Malcolm, his sightless eyes peering up at me, throat slit from ear to ear.
“What did you do?” I whispered, covering my mouth with my hand.
“I killed some vermin.” Those words jerked my head toward her, remembering what I’d found on the Internet, and I saw her green eyes flashing.
Katie’s eyes are blue.
I looked at the cat statue hanging around her neck for a moment, and then I looked into her eyes, wide with fear now.
I knew what I had to do.
“I love you, Katie.” I knelt next to her by the bed, taking her hand and turning it over, kissing a bare place on her palm where it wasn’t stained with blood. It was true, had always been true. Being with her was all I wanted to do, for the rest of my life. I’d been waiting patiently for months for something, not really knowing what it was I was waiting for, but now I knew. This Katie was the one I’d fallen in love with, the one I’d somehow known existed all along—buried, repressed, trapped, dormant. I didn’t believe in fate, exactly, but some part of me knew that none of this was an accident.
“I worship you,” I whispered, and that was true too. She’d brought me to my knees time and again, but I’d never given up hope for her, for us. “You’ve been my goddess since the day I met you.”
She gave me a small, trembling smile, the same smile I’d fallen in love with.
“Come on.” I stood and held out my hand. I knew I would do anything for her, even this, and was about to spend the rest of my life proving it. “We need to get you cleaned up.”
She cocked her head at me. “Where are we going?”
“Italy.” I pulled her up and headed toward the shower. “You’ll love it there.”
ABOUT SELENA KITT
Selena Kitt is a NEW YORK TIMES bestselling and award-winning author of erotic and romance fiction. She is one of the highest selling erotic writers in the business with over a million books sold!
Her writing embodies everything from the spicy to the scandalous, but watch out-this kitty also has sharp claws and her stories often include intriguing edges and twists that take readers to new, thought-provoking depths.
When she's not pawing away at her keyboard, Selena runs an innovative publishing company (excessica.com) and in her spare time, she devotes herself to her family--a husband and four children--and her growing organic garden. She does belly dancing and photography, and she loves four poster beds, tattoos, voyeurism, blindfolds, velvet, baby oil, the smell of leather, and playing kitty cat.
Her books EcoErotica (2009), The Real Mother Goose (2010) and Heidi and the Kaiser (2011) were all Epic Award Finalists. Her only gay male romance, Second Chance, won the Epic Award in Erotica in 2011. Her story, Connections, was one of the runners-up for the 2006 Rauxa Prize, given annually to an erotic short story of "exceptional literary quality," out of over 1,000 nominees, where awards are judged by a select jury and all entries are read "blind" (without author's name available.)
She can be reached on her website at www.selenakitt.com
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Ravished by The Ice Palace Pack
Werewolf ménage short erotica
Copyright ©2014 by Ariana Hawkes
All rights reserved.
Ravished By The Ice Palace Pack
Delilah was a southern wolf, born under blazing blue skies, and trotting through orange dust from early childhood, her paws invulnerable to the baking heat of the earth. She was accustomed to the clear sharpness of the air, the dust drying her nostrils, the wild, sensual fragrance of the desert flowers. Of course, she’d never seen snow before, except in photos, and it seemed as mythical and intangible to her mind as the fairytales her father told her of other countries, far away, across the seas that she’d also never seen.
But now there was snow, and lots of it. Her family’s pilgrimage to the territory of a pack three states away had brought her to an alien land. Delilah was 21 years old, and this was the third pilgrimage that had taken place in her lifetime. On the first one, she’d been a new-born pup, and couldn’t even remember it; on the second she’d been 11, an excited child, begging to go, and sulking for days when her father had forbidden it. But, at the age of 21 and as the Alpha’s daughter, she had certain rights within the pack, and although her mother begged her not to go, she had joined her father, her brothers, the Betas and the Omegas as they made the long journey north.
The first state they passed into was as desert-like as their own; the second was lusher, with rain and moist green foliage, while the border with the third state was marked by snow. When Delilah first saw it, she was terrified. It covered everything with a blue-white glow that made her squint. She whimpered in fear as it fell all around the pack, quickly whitening their coats. She shook herself violently, flinging it off her, but it soon fell and covered her again. Her father barked out a laugh when he saw her.
“Baby, it won’t hurt you! It’s just frozen rain, that comes when the sky turns to ice,” he said, in the language of wolves. Delilah gazed at him doubtfully. It looked nothing like ice. Ice was transparent, like glass, but snow was like a blanket.
“Look!” Her father came up to her and held a paw out, and several of the fragments of snow fell onto it. She looked closely and saw that each fragment was tiny and round, with miniscule spikes that repeated themselves in a perfect imitation of each other.
“They’re called snowflakes,” he said. They’ve fallen from very high in the sky, and they only look white when they cluster together. Each one is unique, just like you, my princess.” His teeth closed on her ear and he gave it an affectionate tug. Delilah warmed, basking in the glow of her father’s love. Cautiously, she slid her long pink tongue out of her mouth and licked at a snowflake. It was tasteless. Under the heat of her breath, the other snowflakes dissolved, becoming drops of water. She yapped happily. Her father was telling her the truth, as always! Full of excitement, she bounded off the track and jumped into the snow. It was so soft! Like sand, but more gentle.
“Delilah!” her father called her back sharply. “There’ll be time for play later, but we’ve got to push on. There are many miles to go before our journey ends!”
It was a huge state, Delilah thought. They travelled for longer than across the previous two states combined, and her father had told her that the Iavanah Pack’s lair was deep in the center of the state, so there was lots more land to the north as well.
Darkness had fallen by the time they reached their destination. It was the day before the shortest day of the year, and the sun had set an hour previously, in late afternoon. However, the snow made the woods almost as bright as day, reflecting the brilliant light of the full moon. Everything around her gleamed whit
e and silver and blue, and Delilah threw her head back and howled, overcome by happiness. Her father fell back from his position at the head of the pack and trotted over to her.
“Shush, little one, we don’t want to announce our arrival to all the other packs just yet!” Delilah looked at him timidly, scared that she’d done something to harm the pack, but he didn’t seem angry.
“Sorry, father,” she said.
“It’s ok, I like to see you enjoying yourself,” he said, and nipped the scruff of her neck before running back to regain his position at the front.
Delilah’s pack ate and slept deeply that evening, relaxing in the warm hospitality of the Iavanah Pack. Before bed, her father took her aside.
“Delilah, stay close to the pack while we’re here,” he said sternly. “Wolves from other packs might require things from you that you’re not ready for, and if they draw you away from me, I won’t be able to protect you.”
“What things, father?”
“You don’t need to know that, Delilah. Just make sure that you stay close by.”
*
Delilah was the first to wake the next day, too excited by the snow to sleep in any longer. She opened one eye, stealing a look around the lair to check that everyone was asleep. They were; they lolled around in groups, limbs and tails mingled together, some stretched out luxuriantly, others curled up, noses buried in flanks. She wanted to go out and see the snow, but she thought about her father’s words. She didn’t know what he’d meant, but he’d sounded so serious. Surely he meant during the day, though? Everyone was sleeping now, too drowsy to require anything from her at all. Since childhood, she’d had an unfortunate tendency towards disobedience, which she’d never been able to get under full control, and this time was no different. The memory of the snow filled her with a crazy excitement, charging her veins with energy. Squeezing her father’s warning into a small space at the back of her mind, she crept out from her furs and made for the entrance, taking one last guilty look around as she did.