by Alison Tyler
Tonight, all the worry, all the responsibility was in his hands. She had given it to him, knowing deep down when he asked that this was perhaps what he meant and giving it anyway.
“I’ve been thinking about the moon. And about werewolves,” he said in his schoolteacher’s voice. Still stroking, still playing, while her sweat and her juices soaked the sheet beneath her and her nipples throbbed, caught between the cups of her bra and the weight of her body.
“They change by the light of the full moon. Werewolves,” she said softly because she couldn’t quite trust her voice not to squeak. She could feel him nod, his approving scholarly nod. Without seeing him, she knew his breath and his body and his mind almost as well as she knew her own.
“Yes. Change.”
He fell silent and his finger slid under her panties, slid into her wet opening and then slowly out. She shuddered and clenched her muscles, wanting to feel his touch in her again. Not daring to ask.
“The moon is all about change. It affects all life on earth, the tides, the cycles of life. And, if you believe in the werewolf myth, it changes the very nature of things.”
His breath was hot on her neck as his lips touched the skin over her shoulder and his finger twirled around her clit before invading her again. Moving hard in her.
“But always—whether you believe in science or magic—the power of the moon always maintains the balance.”
She swallowed hard; she couldn’t speak, but she was thinking. “Yes. Yes and yes and yes.”
She felt his hand withdraw and knew from his satisfied intake of breath that he was sucking her juices from his fingers. She shifted in her bonds. Her panties were a torment and she wanted them off.
“Restless already?” he asked, laughing.
“Damn it, yes. I’m uncomfortable!”
He laughed even more. Then he rolled her over and helped her to sit up. She squinted up at him while he sat next to her, his back to the window and the moonlight. A male shadow, broad shoulders and strong arms. He was naked, all except for the cuff that she saw was still on his wrist.
He reached for something on the bed behind her and then began to cut her bra straps with all-purpose scissors nicked from the kitchen. He peeled the material away and her nipples puckered in the air, seeking touch, but his attention and his scissors only moved to her panties, slicing the thin material so that he could pull it away, rubbing painfully on her flesh before he threw the knickers on the floor. She winced and swallowed and watched him stand.
His cock was erect, deliciously so, and she longed to capture him in her mouth. Wrap her tongue around his musky salt-sweet taste. But as if guessing her longing, he shook his head and smiled. He stood before her and she tried to keep her eyes on his face, half in shadow, half in moonlight, but her eyes kept straying to his cock that she so wanted in her mouth, in her pussy.
“Up here,” he said, amused reprimand in his tone, and blushing, she raised her gaze.
“I know, I know. Sorry.”
“No, you’re not sorry one bit. But that’s why you’re my love.”
Something clinked in his hands and she saw what he was holding now. He fit the key into the gold padlock and turned it. The cuff slipped off and he set it on her lap, on her bare, slightly sticky thighs, before he stepped back.
She looked down at the symbol of his love and obedience and pain discarded.
“According to some legends, all one had to do to take the form of the werewolf was wear its skin.”
She glanced up, searching for him in the shadows.
“It won’t fit,” she said, thinking of the cuff, but he shook his head.
“You aren’t paying attention, love. The skin, not the bonds.”
The skin. The wolf’s rough, broken skin. Her nipples tightened and even in the heat, she shivered. She felt like a snared creature in her binding ropes as he helped her to her feet; steps unsteady as he led her to the window.
In the heatless silvery light she felt her skin burn and she turned wildly to look at him; saw the same feral light in his eyes, the same excitement. They had changed, as surely as the tides, as the wolf. They were, tonight, creatures of the moon, and she was his to tame.
She looked out the window at the trees bathed in shimmering pearl-white, at the fields beyond the house where rabbits and raccoons roamed, restless under the moonlight.
Her heart was pattering again.
“How much does it hurt?” she heard herself ask. “Wearing the wolf skin.”
She was proud at least of the fact her voice stayed strong.
For a minute, he didn’t answer. She felt him move away and then return, felt his gentle hand on the back of her neck and his kiss on her shoulder.
“There is no change without pain, love.”
She turned to look at the strands of braided cord dangling from his hand, at the long handle burning in the moonlight, reflecting silvery fire. She’d never seen it before; it wasn’t one of hers. Something new; something he’d bought just for her. A laugh, strangled, burst from her throat and she turned away, shaking her head in disbelief. “Oh, my God,” she whispered. She closed her eyes and tensed her body, still shaking her head lightly from side to side.
Her hearing picked up the whisper of motion, the whine of air sliced through by leather and metal. She thought, with humor, of what that sound meant to her. Normally. On any night but tonight. Tonight where it meant something entirely the opposite. In the fragment of a second between sound and impact she wondered at herself for allowing this. What had he said? It all maintained the balance.
Then she knew pain.
She gasped and staggered, but his hand was under her elbow, his body was there for her to lean against. He made sure she could stand before he stepped away again. But then he gave her no quarter. Before she could make sense of the line of pain burning across her ass, the second blow came, and the third, each harder than the one before. She whimpered and ground her teeth, but she stood firm, legs planted as far apart as the rope would allow. Far enough for her to keep her balance.
The blows came soft, and then hard, raining pain on once-smooth flesh, transforming her as she wobbled and concentrated on standing, on taking deep breaths between each blow. Listening to him reminding her to stand still, to breathe. Laughing through tears of pain in the moonlight that made everything upside down. That took her words and gave them to his deep, strong baritone. That took his cries and shuddering gasps for air and gave them to her frightened voice.
She was afraid; the terror of a wild animal trapped and in pain. Her heart beat hard, sweat wormed its way down her skin, her ears rang and her limbs trembled. She pictured red lines hidden by shadows and moonlight. Livid and raised on the shivering flesh of her ass, crossed by other lines and yet more lines. Etched deeper with every blow; flaying control and thought.
Yet her body fought the pain, desperately pumping desire between her legs, into her throbbing clit. Desire jiggled heavy in her breasts and nipples with each hit, every time she rocked precariously forward on tiptoe and fought to maintain her balance. Her cries were longing as much as they were fear, and she was on fire.
But she didn’t worry. For not even one instant did she think about what she should do or shouldn’t do or what made sense. She had become nothing but instinct and lust and agony, and beneath it all, her anxiety, her need to be sure, slept like a beast finally tamed.
They lay in the bed, in the dark, her welted ass touching his soft cock, both sticky from their juices. The pain throbbed dully, broken now and then by a stinging twinge from a deeper bruise. She could feel strength of muscle and bone against the back of her head if she pressed it hard against his chest.
“Are you all right?” she heard him say, and she smiled again to hear him asking her questions.
“Yes. Perfect,” she mumbled through tired lips that didn’t want to move now that they had been kissed and bruised into laziness.
She felt him shift, arms folding tighter around her body.
“In the morning…?” she asked as his body pressed gingerly against hers, careful not to hurt wounded flesh too much.
“In the morning the change recedes. Things regain their normal shape.”
She nodded sleepily and rubbed at his wrist where smooth leather usually met her fingers.
“But tonight…?” she said, forcing more words out because she had to know.
He thought a minute or two.
“The wolf still roams until moonset. Until sunrise.”
“Even without his skin.”
“Exactly.”
Another little pause where they listened to the sounds of the night. An eighteen-wheeler on the distant freeway, the chirpings and rustlings of creatures making the most of the remaining hours of darkness.
“This is why I love you,” she said.
She heard the little growl in his chest, that sound of satisfaction when he knew he’d served her well. Devoted, as loyal and long suffering as a hound. No, as a tamed wolf.
In the dark, she smiled.
Contented, she slept.
Mastering Their Dungeons
Bryn Haniver
Gabriel says the most important thing he learned in college was that a really hot cheerleader can have pretty much anything she wants. I’m not saying he’s wrong, or that it’s a bad thing, ’cause in 1983 I was a really hot college cheerleader. Like most of life’s important lessons though, that one had implications I didn’t quite understand at the time. Still, it was fun while it lasted.
My fondest memory from those days involves crashing a game of Advanced Dungeons & Dragons. You know, the fantasy game with wizards, monsters and thick volumes of instructions, the sort of thing that could only be popular amongst nerds.
Why would a hot cheerleader crash a gathering of fantasy-role-playing geeks? In a nutshell, I had recently decided my boyfriend, as gorgeous as he was, was much too annoying to keep, and I was bored to death with the football scene. I was intrigued by the idea of a group of college-age students sitting around playing a game that consisted of little more than metal figurines and silly dice with lots of sides. I knew it was based on imagination and a bunch of rule books full of elves and goblins and swords. It could not be any less like football. I got wind of an AD&D gathering and decided to expand my horizons. Everybody’s horizons, as it turned out.
So close your eyes and picture me as a college girl in 1983. I’m fairly tall, with blond hair, icy-blue eyes and a killer, twenty-year-old athletic body. It’s the eighties, so make that blond hair big, with bangs teased upward. It’s winter, so include very tight jeans, leg warmers and a puffy pink vest on top of a tight sweater. Okay, the photos make me cringe a bit now, but back then, I had power…
It was damn cold out, so I jabbed the buzzer again, my breath steaming. They’d better be here—I had walked all the way across campus. After the fifth or sixth buzz, the door finally opened.
A skinny guy with long, dark hair managed to say, “What the hell do you want?” before he really noticed me. Then his jaw kind of hung open.
“You must be Gabriel,” I said. No response. “Your cousin said I might find you here,” I added. I’d been fishing for something different to do, and one of the girls on the squad had a cousin that played Dungeons & Dragons a lot. This guy fit the description, but if he was her cousin, he wasn’t saying anything yet.
“Can I come in?” I finally asked. “It’s fucking cold out here.” The language jolted him enough to pull the door open more, so in I went.
“Raven,” someone yelled. “What the hell are you doing? Ditch them and get back in here.”
“Raven?” I asked, keeping my voice low.
He looked at his feet. “Um, we call each other by our nicknames here mostly,” he told the floor.
“Well, why not?” I said. “My name’s Jenny by the way.”
“I know who you are,” he said.
A young woman burst into the hallway, words spilling out of her. “Raven, come on! We’re still waiting at the Circle of Darkness and Dominus is getting pissed off.” She stopped short when she saw me and flat-out stared.
“I’m Jenny,” I said brightly. When no one said anything, I asked Gabriel, or rather, Raven, “Well, aren’t you going to introduce us?”
“Jenny, this is Math-Girl,” he said.
I tried not to laugh. I mean, she was small and wearing Coke-bottle-thick glasses, the sort of glasses you just don’t see anymore, but still: Math-Girl?
“They call you Math-Girl?” I finally said.
“We call each other by our nicknames here,” she said defiantly.
I shrugged and smiled. “Well, why not?” I said. “Lead on. I can’t wait to meet Dominus.”
It turns out I probably could have waited. The final member of their fantasy trio was solid looking and oozed attitude, which reminded me too much of football. When we got to the room, he proceeded to browbeat both Raven and Math-Girl ferociously, telling them their characters were going to die horrible deaths if they didn’t take the Circle of Darkness more seriously. He spoke like an irritable drill sergeant and clearly had control issues.
He stopped when he saw me, though. “What is SHE doing here?” he asked no one in particular.
No one answered, so I said, “I’m here to play a game.”
He sneered. “This isn’t checkers. You can’t just jump in. These two have advanced characters, and they’re about to attempt an extremely difficult challenge.”
“Right,” I said. “The Circle of Darkness, I presume.” I smiled at his reaction. “But that’s okay,” I continued. “I don’t want to play that game.” I wanted to try something different, and a friend of a friend had suggested fucking someone with a strap-on. I think she was just being outrageous, but after that, I started having fantasies about it. Pretty soon I was dreaming about fucking a room full of people with a strap-on. Finally, I went out and bought a strap-on.
Now fucking a room full of people with my new attachment seemed a bit unlikely, but to tell the truth, one of the reasons I wanted to crash a D&D party was that I figured I could use my body and my popularity to get these kids to do just about whatever I wanted. And I wanted to fuck them.
Dominus, Math-Girl and Raven were all looking at me expectantly. I’m sure it was strange enough to have an A-list cheerleader in their midst, but if I didn’t want to join their world of magic and multisided dice, why was I here?
“I’d like to have sex with each of you,” I said, thoroughly enjoying their expressions.
“Sure!” said Dominus, probably hoping to get into me before I changed my mind. “Bedroom’s right over there—I’ll go first.”
Raven was unreadable, but Math-Girl gave me a puzzled look. “You want to have sex with me?” she asked somewhat plaintively.
I stood and stretched a bit, letting my tight jeans and sweater speak for a moment or two. Then I said, “I should probably be a bit more specific.” I plopped my Chanel handbag down and pulled out a harness, a medium-size pink dildo, a tube of lubricant and a box of condoms. I placed each item somewhat carelessly down in the middle of their game. My sexual accoutrements looked decidedly out of place amidst their strange dice, the little metal figurines and the rule books. All three of them stared.
“Holy shit,” Raven whispered.
“You want to fuck our asses with that?” Dominus said. “That’s what you mean by having sex?” His face was quite expressive, and I watched disbelief, disappointment and then anger all scroll across it. Finally, he said, “No fucking way!”
Math-Girl didn’t say anything. Her eyes just went back and forth from the dildo to me.
“Tell you what,” I said. “No matter what happens, I get to fuck each of you.” I leaned over the table and picked up the die with the most sides, studying it for a second or two. “But afterward, if you roll, say, sixteen and up on this twenty-sided die, then you get to fuck me.” I rolled it—it came to fourteen. I shrugged. “What do you think?”
They w
ere all looking at me intently, their eyes betraying a variety of emotions. I wasn’t a plus-four wizard, but it was time to unleash some of my magic. I pulled my sweater over my head, standing before them in tight jeans and a white bra. I shook my mane of blond hair. I unbuttoned the top of my jeans.
“I’m in,” said Raven softly. I smiled at him.
I walked over to where Math-Girl was sitting. I leaned over and gently pulled her glasses off. Her eyes, still big, remained fixed on mine as I kissed her.
“What’s you’re real name?” I asked.
“F-Flora,” she stammered softly.
I moved my lips to her ear. “Flora, will you offer your beautiful body to me?” I breathed. She shuddered.
“Yes,” she whispered, her voice almost imperceptible. I slipped my tongue into her ear and she shuddered again. “Take me any way you want,” she said, louder this time.
The hell with wizards, I felt like a god as I walked over to Dominus. “And what’s your real name?” I asked him. He didn’t reply, his face defiant.
I stood right in front of him and peeled off my jeans. I spun, a vision of youthful grace, beauty and power. I often wish I could watch my performance on video now, over twenty years later. I stared at him and could practically read his thoughts—while he was very unsure about letting me fuck him, he knew damn well this was his only shot at a woman like me in the real world.
“My name is Dave,” he finally said, his defiance gone. I felt triumphant. My body and the force of my personality had vanquished their fantasy world. In Dave’s imaginary dungeons he was the master, but here in the real world, in a dorm room in 1983, he was willing to let me fuck him. Awesome.
“So who’s first?” I asked playfully. When no one answered, I picked up another one of the dice on the table. This one appeared to have twelve sides. Using as deep and serious a voice as I could, I intoned, “Dominus, 1 to 4. Math-Girl, 5 to 8. Raven, 9 to 12.”
I guess they were used to this sort of thing, because all three of them leaned forward and watched as I rolled, their eyes fixed on the tumbling die. A ten showed up, and everyone turned to look at Raven. He shrugged, but I could see the apprehension in his soft eyes.