Angela’s Wolves
Copyright 2009 by
Maria Isabel Pita
Angela’s father was in town for a month. When he called her one Sunday morning and invited her to the local Renaissance Fair that afternoon she agreed to go. He picked her up in a rental car with Rose, his third wife, sitting dutifully by his side.
Peter said, “So, how are you my dear?” as he backed out of the driveway of what Angela secretly thought of as her doll’s house, because it was small and she was playing at being grown up there.
“I’m fine,” she replied shortly. His casual tone always put her on the defensive. Her life was worth a bit more passion than that. She sat in the back seat snacking on Cuban crackers. Normally she avoided refined carbohydrates, not to mention anything containing lard, but she hadn’t eaten lunch and she was, as usual, starving.
He adopted a more serious tone. “Are you seeing anyone?”
“Nope. It’s still as hard as it ever was to meet any decent men, either online or at old-fashioned meat markets.”
“You have a butcher?” Rose said innocently. “Where we live I have to buy all our meat at grocery stores and it’s really not as fresh.”
Angela laughed and brushed white crumbs off her black shorts.
“My love,” Peter sighed condescendingly, “she meant bars.”
He met his daughter’s eyes in the rearview mirror and added, “Eat some more crackers. You’re as thin as a skeleton. And who cut your hair anyway? You look like you just walked out of an Egyptian tomb, for God’s sake.”
She grinned. “Thanks dad!” He knew she loved everything Egyptian so she decided to take his remark as a compliment and she certainly didn’t mind being told she was thin. She had long ago determined there was no point getting angry with the person who had given her half her genes. It was entirely up to her to improve on them, as if her blood was a finely aging wine, and not let their emotionally watered down encounters make her bitter.
The Renaissance Fair was being held at
Because a chain link fence safely separated them, Angela felt free to admire the gorgeous animal. “Meow,” she taunted him sweetly.
“He’d rip your heart out if he could,” her father remarked as he slipped an affectionate arm over her shoulders.
It was a hot afternoon. Summer was definitely on its
way. She had lived in
The Fair was crowded. After a while, bored by Rose’s inane chatter, Angela wandered off by herself. She stepped into the shade offered by a particularly large pavilion and found herself listening to a lecture on knights and their weaponry. On the display table lay vests made of chain-mail, two metal helmets divorced from their suits of armor and an assortment of knives, swords and axes.
A few yards beyond the pavilion, directly in her line of sight, stood a narrow wooden storage shed. A tall man with shoulder-length blond hair stepped out from behind it and suddenly her boredom evaporated. The sleeveless form-fitting brown leather vest he was wearing afforded her a very nice view of his broad shoulders, and a short leather loincloth exposed most of his muscular thighs. The sight of him literally made her stop breathing for a moment. He looked too beautiful to be real and yet he was walking straight toward her pavilion. He stopped only a few feet away from her, too close for her to keep admiring him without being afraid he would notice. Every cell in her body longed to meet his eyes but all her life she had suffered from a social shyness not in keeping with what she considered to be her true passionate nature. Hating herself for it, she focused on the actor who was demonstrating the dubious effectiveness of chain-mail by placing the edge of a sword over one of his arms and attempting to slice through it. Grimacing and laughing along with the rest of the crowd, she dared to glance at the man who was truly captivating her without saying a word.
He was staring at her.
Her heart took off like an Olympic sprinter. She glanced away shyly but then simply couldn’t resist looking at him again. She needed to make absolutely sure she hadn’t merely imagined his interest in her.
His striking light-blue eyes gripped hers and made it impossible for her to look away again.
She had been enjoying the sight of men clad in colorful tights, embroidered doublets worn over white shirts with romantically full sleeves, feathered hats and long black velvet capes but nothing compared to
the vision of this half naked Celtic warrior. There was no other way to describe him. He seemed completely out of place in a
Renaissance Fair. The belt around his waist was hung with a leather sheathe containing a dagger and his sandals were strapped in place by leather cords that wound halfway up his strong calves. The defined muscles of his thighs made her ache to lick his golden-brown skin, and his smooth chest seemed to be begging her nails to scratch it just for the pleasure of experiencing his anger. When she finally made it up to
his face again the
soft smile on his lips—his promising reaction to her open
appraisal of his physique—filled her with an intense, almost overwhelming relief. Then in the corner of her eye she saw the distant figure of her father gesturing toward her impatiently. Looking back at him, she held up her right hand to indicate she needed five more minutes. Shrugging, he turned away and vanished along with Rose around a bend in the path over which
Her stubborn shyness reasserting itself, she pretended to once more be interested in the sword the actor was holding up as he described the process by which it was forged. She caught the words “hot” “beaten” “plunged” but for the most part didn’t hear a thing. Her heart was pounding so fast she thought she could actually hear the blood rushing through her body—a faint ringing in her ears that made it strangely impossible for her to think straight. It was killing her not to look at him. Her timidity, the insecurities she hid even from herself—she suddenly hated them all. When she couldn’t stand it anymore, she demurely shifted her gaze in his direction.
Catching her eye, he made a slight gesture with his head as he turned away and began walking in the direction from which he had come.
She stood rooted to the spot. Had he actually beckoned her to follow him?
Impossible! No man would dare to behave in such a splendidly arrogant fashion, not
in the twenty-first century! But he was
leaving, striding purposefully past the storage shed and
heading for the trees.
Angela felt her legs moving and couldn’t believe it. She wasn’t really about to follow some cocky actor into the woods, was she? She had never done anything so stupid, so exciting, so dangerous! Her body moved purposefully forward, ignoring her mental consternation as if a whole new set of electrical synapses had sparked to life in her brain. She followed a narrow path through the weedy grass to where he waited for her. The sun was high in the sky and the day was so hot and humid the air around him seemed to shimmer. Every step she took set her nerves off like automatic alarms as her mind screamed for her to turn back. Instead she quickened her pace in an effort to outrun the cowardly impulse. The only truly important thing was the fact that he was still there waiting for her.
When she reached him he grasped her right hand and pulled her into the refreshingly cool shade beneath the low-lying branches. His skin was surprisingly hot and his possessive grip was not gentle. She reassured herself with the
thought that he couldn’t
take her very far
since there was only
a thin strip of trees between the palace grounds and
She gasped, “Where are we going!?”
He glanced back at her. “We must hurry!” He didn’t bother telling her toward where.
She had no idea what was happening and yet she did know that, despite all the reasons she should be, she wasn’t actually frightened. Maybe it was all the endorphins flooding her blood from the exercise of running as fast as she could over tree roots constantly threatening to trip her up. She was proud of her physical condition but the treadmill at the gym hadn’t prepared her for what could only be described as their headlong flight.
“Stop!” she cried. “I can’t go on!”
He said harshly “You must!” and tugged her behind him in yet another direction.
They were not following a well-worn path between the trees,
on the contrary. She probably wouldn’t be able to find her way back alone, which meant she was lost without him. At some point she had stopped expecting to run into
He stopped abruptly, in the same instant turning to face her, and she ran straight into him. The impact would have knocked over any normal man but beneath his surprisingly tender skin his body felt hard as a rock. While she gasped for air he exuded such implacable strength she couldn’t resist slipping her arms around his chest and clinging to him. An intoxicating aura of pure testosterone surrounded him, and mingled with the oxygen molecules she struggled to gulp down as a wicked stitch in her side made it impossible for her to take a deep breath. Fortunately he seemed to be as patient now as he had been in a hurry before. Holding her against him, he waited silently for her to recover.
As her heart stopped beating against her ribcage like a prisoner demanding freedom, she backed away from him and looked around them. To her right loomed a cliff-face half concealed by lush green vines blooming tiny violet flowers. For a moment she was astonished by how much beauty existed beyond the safely paved path she and most everyone else normally followed, then a sinking feeling in her belly deepened her irrational suspicion they were no longer in south Florida. Her brain, however, kept refusing to acknowledge the impossible fact in order to keep her emotions from panicking.
He said, “We will be safe here for now.”
She heard herself ask almost calmly, “Safe from what?”
He shot a brief, derisive glance over one of his magnificent shoulders. “From them.”
He was insane, of course, and she had followed him all the way out to… wherever they were of her own free will, which made her a little crazy too. “Are you going to hurt me?” she blurted.
“Hurt you?” He sounded genuinely astonished by the question. “Surely you know in your heart that you are perfectly safe with me, my lady.”
She gaped at him. Was it possible he was playacting? Maybe this was his unique idea of foreplay? God he was good to look at! She had followed him into the woods of her own free will and now she was going to ruin all the fun they might have together by being paranoid. The voice of her intuition insisted she had nothing to fear but it was as difficult to hear as a whisper over her mind’s paranoid screams of “Psycho! Rapist! Murderer!” and yet somehow, deep in her heart and soul, she knew he was none of those things.
Tentatively, a part of her still hesitating, she offered him the gift of her trust as she whispered, “I believe you.”
He smiled and glanced up at the sky. “It will be dark soon. We should see about some food.”
She laughed.
His eyes narrowed. “What is it you find so amusing about hunger, my lady?”
“Um… nothing.” She had to admit he definitely knew how to stay in character. “I’m just so happy you… rescued me.”
“I fear your father will not let you go so easily.”
He was still following an invisible script but his words reassured her. They seemed to say he had seen her wave at her dad and knew someone would come looking for her if she stayed away too long. Everything was going to be all right and, meanwhile, she might just have the time of her life if she didn’t ruin it by being afraid.
“I feel safe with you,” she said truthfully, cleverly addressing both the actor and the character he was playing. “And I am hungry.”
“Then I had better go kill us something.” He drew his weapon with an artistry that affected her like a blow behind the knees. One second his hand was empty and the next it held a very realistic looking dagger. The blade was tarnished with age but the edges looked sharp. It was certainly no prop that had collected dust in an old costume shop.
He turned away. “I will be back as soon as I can.”
“Wait!” She grabbed his arm. It was so broad she had to use both hands. “You can’t leave me here all alone!”
“I will not go far,” he promised. “But we must eat. While I am gone see if you can find mushrooms and onions for the stuffing. Also, a small underground stream emerges from behind those bushes.”
He removed the leather flask hanging next to his scabbard and handed it to her. “Prop this under it. We also need kindling to start a fire. Pile the wood on that stone.” Pointing briefly, as though he had every confidence in her, he left.
He was taking the scene just a bit too far! She stared at his retreating back until he disappeared amidst the trees but then she couldn’t be sure he wasn’t just hiding behind one of them laughing to himself as he watched her reaction. If she actually began searching for mushrooms she would look like a fool but if she just stood there even she would consider herself no fun.
Well, why not? She approached the bushes he had indicated, behind which she would supposedly find the mouth of a stream. She was thirsty after running so fast. They both needed water if they were going to be out here for a while. Obviously he didn’t plan on rushing the fantasy and while part of her found his determination to stay in character frustrating she also admired him for it.
The “stream” proved to be a mere trickle emerging from between a cleft in the rock but the water looked perfectly clean and she succeeded in propping the flaccid leather pouch beneath it. Leaving it there she searched the area he had chosen as their stage for anything recognizably edible. She wasn’t sure she would know a wild onion if it slapped her in the face and made her cry. Collecting kindling for a fire, however, was not beyond her ken. It made her nervous to think he really intended to keep her here until after dark but she was getting bored of trying to be nervous when she really wasn’t. The strap of her purse was draped securely across her chest. As she lifted it off—intending to set it down beside the relatively flat stone he had indicated—she remembered her cell phone.
Feeling inexplicably guilty, she looked around and listened carefully. All she could hear were birds chirping high up in the trees. The otherwise absolute silence stretching all around her felt miles deep. She hesitated, then quickly reached into her purse and pulled out her phone. She had to call her dad. It wasn’t right to let him worry.
She couldn’t get a signal.
“That’s impossible!” she hissed. “This is
She shoved it back into her purse. The truth was she had no desire to call her father or anyone else. Turning resolutely away from the evidence of her real life lying in the grass, she left the small glade and began collecting kindling. It was more work than she would have imagined. It was necessary to untangle branches, and then snap them into manageable pieces she tossed into a pile. By the time her stash looked big enough she’d broken two of her freshly manicured nails and a scratch on her palm was bleeding a little. Cursing beneath her breath, she gathered the load up in her arms, surprised and grateful it held together as she hurried back to the stone he had indicated. Well, that task was nicely done, now it was time to find some mushrooms. It didn’t take her long. At the base of a mighty oak she spotted a mystical looking congregation of the edible fungus. They looked exactly like the kind she bought in plastic-wrapped cardboard boxes except that they were still alive. It gave her a strange thrill to touch them wondering if they might appear edible but really be poisonous. Saving the impressively large patriarch for last, she picked the smallest ones first almost feeling as if she was murdering an entire family. Who said vegetarians didn’t kill for their food?
She was so engrossed in her allotted chores she completely forgot about the rental car parked somewhere nearby waiting to take her home to her doll’s house. The thought annoyed her when it inevitably resurfaced and she shoved it away. She was, she admitted, enjoying the fact that she was lost and had no idea how long this strikingly realistic fantasy would last. But her growing thirst and hunger were no act and deep down she hoped he wasn’t only pretending to hunt.
Returning to the small glade Angela gently deposited her mushroom harvest in a pile beside her purse. The flat stone seemed to be blackened by previous fires. He must have camped there before. It impressed her he had been able to find his way back through the maze of trees. She looked around her again fighting a vague sense of panic. No matter how hard she listened she still couldn’t distinguish even a subliminal whisper of distant traffic. Then she noticed a patch of grass that looked different. Welcoming the distraction, she approached it curiously. Sinking to her knees, she gripped a handful of the long vivid green stalks and pulled on them, rocking the roots gently back and forth and from side to side.
“Scallions!” she exclaimed and laughed in triumph. She had always enjoyed cooking and shopping for food but it had never been this much fun. Then at long last she heard branches cracking behind her.
Her fellow actor was returning to their makeshift stage with something hairy draped over one of his shoulders.
“You caught something!” She was surprised, horrified and delighted all in a single heartbeat as she recognized the long thin body of a rabbit.
“You have done well, my lady.” He smiled observing the results of her labor.
The admiration and pleasure in his voice made her want to purr. “You didn’t do so badly yourself… my lord.”
His smile deepened as he flung the rabbit off his shoulder onto the grass.
“But how, my lord,” she felt a warm pang deep in her belly every time she called him that, “are we going to start a fire without matches or a lighter?”
He cocked a dark-gold eyebrow at her as he knelt beside the rabbit and unsheathed his dagger. “Matches?”
“Oops.” She covered her mouth with her hand and took a squeamish step back. But in the end she watched, irresistibly fascinated, as he cleaned the animal he had killed.
He draped the bottom half of the limp rabbit in the groove formed by his thighs and, propping the rest of it against his chest, slit open its belly with one smooth stroke. He set the knife down in the grass beside him and beginning with the heart, which had so recently been beating, ripped out the vital organs. The sensation she experienced when he thrust his fist inside the helpless creature was so intense she could scarcely distinguish it from arousal; the skillful way he penetrated the body draped across his thighs excited her against her will. The squeamishness she suffered for the first few moments was like the pain of losing her virginity, nothing to be prized in itself, and it soon disappeared.
With one hand holding the rabbit by the neck, with his other hand he yanked its skin off all in one piece as if it was merely a fur coat it had been wearing.
She watched in silence as he walked over to the stream, crouched before it and rinsed the knife and his hands clean. The process took a long time, during which she enjoyed admiring the flexing muscles in his arms and legs. As he walked back toward her she continued avidly observing him. Every move he made was precise and yet also as subtly graceful as the steps of a dance. Spreading the rabbit across one edge of the cooking stone, he quickly whittled a roasting spit with some of the branches she had collected. His intent expression made his profile look carved by a true master. She couldn’t recall ever seeing such a seriously focused and mysteriously relaxed look on a man’s face before. He stuffed the rabbit with most of the mushrooms and scallions, impaled and suspended it over a pile of kindling topped with dry leaves, and then reached into a slit in his leather vest from which he extracted two pieces of what even she recognized as flint. He struck the metal shards against each other over and over again until sparks finally flew. Gently blowing on them, he fanned the tentative flames to vigorous life.
Angela found herself identifying with the fire hungrily licking the branches as more than she had ever wanted anything in her life she desired this man. He stoked the growing blaze and she went to kneel beside him. Smiling at her, he thrust his weapon back into its sheathe and she felt she would die if he didn’t make his move soon. There was nothing to do now except wait for the rabbit to cook and even though her stomach grumbled what she was really starving for was his touch.
“My lord,” she whispered, “will you promise me you’ll take me home in the morning?”
“My lady, if that is what you still wish in the morning, I will take you home. I promise. But I also swear that, for as long as you are with me, absolutely nothing will harm you. You are cold. We should share our warmth.”
He slipped an arm around her and drew her tense body against his. Effortlessly perching her sideways on his lap, he rested one hand lightly but insistently on the back of her head and urged her to rest her cheek against his chest.
She closed her eyes. Suddenly she wasn’t at all worried that it was getting dark. She had never felt so safe in all her life as she did cradled in a stranger’s arms. The quiet crackling of the fire and the sound of his heart beating steadily in her ear mysteriously deepened the surrounding silence as all the song birds retired for the night.
She whispered, “Are there bears out here?”
“Yes,” he answered just as softly, “but they will not bother us.”
“What about wolves?”
He chuckled.
She raised her head in an effort to look up into his eyes but as he gazed down at her his hair fell forward around his face and shadowed his features.
“I don’t think it’s funny there might be wolves out here,” she protested weakly.
“You have nothing to fear from wolves.” He lifted her off his lap and pushed her gently back across the grass. “Nothing at all.”
She gasped in astonishment at how many stars were already visible between the branches of the trees, and they all seemed to tremble with the same excitement possessing her as he spread her legs open and knelt between them. Staring intently down at her face, he removed his vest and she eagerly pulled her own shirt off over her head. Her breasts were not so large that she always had to wear a bra and she was glad she hadn’t bothered with one that morning. She wrestled with the buttons of her shorts and her breath caught as he flung his belt away along with his kilt. The firelight caressed his erection, which was everything she could possibly have hoped for. He gripped the open folds of her shorts—making sure to get hold of her panty as well—then stood up and yanked them both off her with the same violently precise skill he had skinned the rabbit. The cool evening air kissed her nakedness even as the fire licked her with hot invisible tongues. She had never felt so exposed and vulnerable to a magical point where fear became indistinguishable from excitement. Quickly kneeling between her thighs again, he spread his body over hers without touching her. Only her nipples grazed his chest and they hardened like seeds sending delicious tendrils of pleasure branching through her. He caught one of her nipples gently between his teeth and she moaned as his rigid cock grazed her labia. Impatiently, she raised her legs around him and tried to push him inside her.
Catching both her wrists in one of his fists, he pinned her arms over her head. Then he groaned—so low in his throat it sounded almost like a growl—and bit the right side of her neck. She really felt then like she was in an enchanted forest located somewhere beyond the normal rules of logic where it was impossible to distinguish fear from excitement, pain from pleasure as—with a single stabbing thrust—he filled her with his cock.
Her cry was echoed by an unearthly howl emanating from somewhere between the trees. The ecstasy she suffered was shockingly profound as he continued lavishing a devouring attention on her neck. The head of his cock beat relentlessly against what had to be her G-spot and made her feel as if he was killing all the weak and pathetically timid parts of her which, until then, had resisted everything she truly wanted. The stars felt closer than ever as they pulsed like his erection inside her, reminding her they were burning suns she was beginning to feel were all magically trapped where their two bodies met. When he finally raised his head from her neck she couldn’t tell if her skin was wet with his saliva or with her blood. He kissed her, pushing his tongue between her lips and swirling it around in synch with his cock churning deep in her sex and applying an irresistible pressure against her clit. As his hard-on throbbed and expanded her pussy demandingly around it, she climaxed violently. He finally let go of her wrists and reaching down with both hands clutched her ass for more leverage. With the throaty growl that both chilled and thrilled her, he sank his teeth into the virginal side of her neck. The pleasure he took in her body was so immense—the shockwaves his ejaculation sent resonating through her pelvis were so sublimely devastating—another orgasm rolled in on the tide of her blood and drowned her awareness of everything except the joy igniting like divine fireworks in all her nerve ends.
Angela doesn’t know how long it was before she thought about moving. He was lying on top of her and he was so heavy she could hardly breathe. Nevertheless, she couldn’t remember ever feeling so at peace. He recovered first. He sat up and turned back toward the fire which had almost gone out. She watched him in a blissful daze as he quickly added more kindling, then stoked the flames back to life before he carefully turned the rabbit on its spit. Then he fell forward onto his hands and crawled back toward her with a swift agility that suddenly made her feel she was dreaming as for a few surreal seconds he looked just like a wolf with a human face.
Abruptly feeling the cold again, she sat up and whispered, “Thank you!” as he retrieved her clothes and handed them to her.
After they dressed in silence, he seated himself cross legged in front of the fire. “Come here,” he commanded gently.
She snuggled up against him as he rested a remarkably warm arm over her bare shoulders. The rabbit looked and smelled delicious and her stomach grumbled. He pulled out his knife and cut her a slice. First blowing on it so it wouldn’t burn her tongue, he insinuated it between her lips and observed her expression as she chewed. To her sodium-spoiled palate the slightly tough meat didn’t taste like much at first but after two more mouthfuls she found herself enjoying the subtle smoky flavor.
Feeling increasingly hurt that he didn’t seem to be interested, she said, “Aren’t you going to ask me my name and tell me yours?”
He tensed against her and she heard it too—the distant but unmistakable sound of dogs barking.
By the time she made it to her feet he was already up and moving. With the water left in the flask he doused the fire, plunging them into absolute darkness.
She reached blindly in his direction and it felt like miracle when she found him.
He slipped an arm possessively around her waist and whispered in her ear, “They have our scent, my lady, and you cannot outrun them!”
“Who has our scent?”
“Your father! He wants you to live only in his rational world and no other. You must go back.”
“No!”
“You must, my lady, and wait for me. I swear on my immortal soul that I will come for you again.”
“But I don’t even know your name!”
“It does not matter.” He spun her around so her back was to him. “I am inside you now.”
She couldn’t find the strength to protest as he bound her wrists so tightly it squeezed tears of pain and desperation out of her eyes. Then he swept her up in his arms, spread her on her back across the grass and began binding her ankles in a similar fashion.
“They will believe I forced you,” he said, his voice barely audible. “Only we will know the truth, Angela.”
She didn’t hear him leave, she simply knew he was gone. She lay there rendered immobile not just by the leather bonds but by wonder. How had he known her name? Her driver’s license was in her purse but he had never even seemed to notice it much less had a chance to look in it. Then the urgent cacophony of barking dogs drawing ever closer forced her to pay attention to it. Even if she managed to solve the mystery of how he had known her name, it wouldn’t change the fact that he had left her at the mercy of a pack of dogs. She thought of the wolf-like canine she had seen earlier that day. Her father had said, “He’d rip your heart out if he could” and she felt that somehow it had… that he had.
She struggled into a sitting position but standing seemed impossible with her arms tied behind her and her legs bound at the ankles. She didn’t think it was her imagination that lightning was flashing between the trees. It took her a few seconds to realize what she was seeing were actually the beams of flashlights. Light, radiant and divine, offered her heart a hopeful path to follow but unfortunately it was accompanied by the tormented baying of the hounds of hell. It was all too much for her. With an oddly detached curiosity, she felt herself fall back across the grass as her awareness shut down…
She had drifted off on a safe dark wave when a hot and eager lick across her cheek forced her back to consciousness. She blinked in confusion for she seemed to be gazing directly into a cavern of gleaming white stalactites. A second later she realized it was a dog’s grinning jaw. Another concerned lick followed by an encouraging bark urged her up into a sitting position, where she found herself surrounded on all sides by the smooth narrow trunks of men’s legs in black slacks—police officers.
One of them knelt beside her and said tensely, “How badly are you hurt?”
“I’m not.”
“Just relax.” He didn’t sound like he believed her. “Everything’s going to be all right now. We’ll need you to come to the station and give us a full description of the person who did this to you.” His tone implied he was surprised and relieved to have found a living body.
“He left hours ago,” she said quickly, “and I’m not pressing charges.”
She could hear it now—the disenchanting hum of distant traffic.
* * * * *
“It might be understandable to you, doctor, but the fact of the matter is it’s not sane!” Peter nearly bit off the tip of his pipe stem. “I wouldn’t even know exactly what had happened to her if she hadn’t told Rose. She acts so normal it’s-”
“Angela is normal,” the man sitting behind the large oak desk assured him. “She’s simply in denial. As time passes she’ll gradually unravel the emotional cushion of her fantasy and face the hard facts.”
“Do you know she’s actually angry at me for trying to get her some professional help? She’s mad at me instead of at the man who…” Unable to say it he sucked furiously on his pipe.
“Sir, you have to understand. Your daughter is a grown woman but there’s a child in all of us and, unconsciously, she blames you for not being able to protect her. That’s not fair, of course, but its of vital importance you be patient with her.”
“I know,”
“Excuse me?”
“I mean she’s always had a very vivid imagination,” Peter hastily corrected himself.
“Then how she’s dealing with the memory of what she experienced is perfectly in keeping with her creative personality. If she’s able to respect, even admire, the man who lured her into the woods then she doesn’t have to feel guilty about what happened there. She’s transformed the dangerous event into an enchanted encounter, during which she felt as if the very laws of time and space had been altered.”
“I can’t believe she actually followed a strange man into the woods! What on earth was she thinking?”
“Try not to judge her.”
“Do you really think you can help her?”
“Without a doubt. Just leave her to me. It won’t happen overnight but eventually, sooner than later I think, she’ll come to accept things as they truly are.”
“She turned down two other therapists before you, flat out refused to see them. I guess the fact that she’s agreed to get some help means she’s beginning to realize there’s something wrong with her.”
“Yes, but I don’t want to keep her waiting any longer.”
“Of course. I’ll send her in.” Shaking his head morosely, Peter left the office.
A moment later, Angela slipped into the room, closed the door behind her and locked it.
The man behind the desk rose and commanded gently, “Come here, my lady.”
She ran to him, flung her arms around his neck and gazed worshipfully up at his face. “What did you tell him?”
“Everything he expected to hear.”
She sighed. “I don’t know why he always has to be so cynical.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Pressing her body hard against his, he kissed her. “We know what is real and true. But now I have a job to do—some deep penetrating therapy.”
She smiled. “Shall I go lie across the couch?”
“No. The soul of the trees from which this oak desk is made would appreciate being put to more passionate use. Turn around and bend over.”
“But my dad’s right outside the door waiting for me…”
“Then you’ll have to make an effort to keep quiet.”
“But it would feel so strange…”
Abruptly he unknotted his tie—a strip of black leather—and slipped it off. “I don’t like these things. They remind me of leashes, and wolves don’t like leashes.” Pulling it taut he slipped it between her lips before she realized what he intended to do and could protest. She moaned as he stepped behind her and knotted the make-shift gag tightly enough that it wouldn’t slip off. “Remember, Angela, I’m also wearing a belt so do what I tell you.”
There wasn’t much on the desk. No objects got in her way as she bent over it. Bracing herself on the far edge, she rested her cheek against the hard surface.
“Mm, my lady, this skirt is much nicer than the shorts you were wearing when we first met. However, panties are an unnecessary frivolity. In the future you will refrain from wearing them unless I give you permission to do so.”
As he spoke he caressed her ass, pushing her skirt up out of his way as he did so. Slowly, letting her enjoy the thrill of being exposed, he slipped her panties halfway down her thighs.
“Spread your legs a little,” he commanded.
She obeyed him, helplessly aroused by the feel of his hands squeezing her ass cheeks and by the knowledge he could see both her orifices—the tender folds of her labia and the puckered little hole of her anus. Thanks to the sexy high-heels she was wearing her vulnerable openings were offered up to him at the perfect height and angle. Her panties suspended halfway between her pussy and her knees made her feel even more provocatively exposed.
“Oh Angela, I could eat you alive!”
She closed her eyes and moaned around the gag as he licked the whole length of her sex—from the crown of her clitoris all the way up to the cleft between her ass cheeks. He gripped them with both hands and spread them apart so he could savor her promisingly tight sphincter with the tip of his tongue. It made no sense but there was no denying the attention he lavished on her back door immediately got her pussy juicing. When she sensed him step back she held her breath wondering where he would decide to put his cock. The thought of her father sitting just outside the door painfully excited her by making her feel daringly wicked.
She whimpered in anxious confusion as all at once two contrasting sensations assaulted her. She relished the supremely delicious kiss of his cock-head filling the mouth of her sex but at the same time resisted the experience of something even harder, and unnervingly cold, forcing itself into her ass. Her little hole screamed hotly in protest as she suddenly found herself torn between trying to escape this penetration even while longing for the other. She had never suffered a dildo in her anus before and she both dreaded and craved it. The edge of the desk pressed into the tender skin just above her clit but the slight discomfort only heightened the excitement she felt at being helplessly pinned down. From her position she had a clear view of a window. The office was located on the ground floor and the blinds were up, which meant anyone who happened to walk by could look in and see them. She squirmed at the possibility.
“Hold still, my lady,” he said firmly and began filling her with his cock. “It’s time for you to expand your horizons, Angela.”
He was expanding her all right and the blissful way her pussy bloomed open around his erection mysteriously relaxed her sphincter into accepting the more slender but utterly unyielding metal dildo. She suffered a sinking sensation as the object lodged itself in her bowels and then abruptly a dark and all-consuming pleasure rushed through her blood and dissolved her body’s tense resistance. She kept her eyes on the window, at once hoping and dreading someone would walk by. The last thing she expected to see was a large black wolf with silver eyes perch on the sill, its jaws parted in a vicious grin as it stared directly at her.
“Angela, I’d like you to meet my brother. I’ll introduce you to him later. What’s the matter, my lady, haven’t you ever heard of shape shifters?” He gripped the end of the dildo emerging from her sphincter and moved it in and out in relentless rhythm with his hard cock thrusting into her pussy. She whimpered as though in protest but the slickness of both her orifices betrayed the perverse pleasure she was taking in the double penetration. She felt so unbelievably tight she couldn’t stop moaning through the gag. How forcefully he fucked her made her clitoris tremble with a subliminal yet steadily intensifying joy verging on the mystical.
“Or maybe you’ve read about shape shifters,” he went on a little breathlessly, “but didn’t believe they really existed? Well, Angela, my beautiful lady, I can literally feel your horizons expanding. The object in your ass looks like a silver bullet—although as you can feel it’s much bigger—and it is serving to kill all the insecure and falsely timid parts of you. Fortunately your feelings are stronger than your skeptical brain and in your heart you have always dared to believe in more than reason can explain. That’s why I was able to come to you and why you’re going to come for me now.”
His hard voice and cock would have been more than enough to shove her over the subliminal edge of normal existence into the divine space of a climax even if the wolf at the window hadn’t been replaced, between one blink and the next, by a stunningly attractive dark-haired man with light-gray eyes. He crossed his strong arms against his chest as he watched his brother possessing her from behind and his expression clearly told her he was next.
To be continued?
If you’d like to read more about Angela and her two wolves, let me know at missa@mariaisabelpita.com. I hope you enjoyed my first self-published story. I have many books out with a variety of publishers but Kindle lets me write exactly what I want to without artificial rules and constraints. If you liked Angela’s Wolves I’d love to hear from you. What do you think makes erotic romance truly hot and fulfilling?