My story begins at a point where I had finally reached my threshold; my limit of impassive relationships, and meaningless trade. At a time when I was about to embark on a journey, the destination was still unknown but the drive had taken a dramatic volte-face. Many yearn for ardour and thrill, but nought ever befalls wanting, and my fate seemed equally sealed in that regard. Well, that was until somebody forced me to react in ways uncommon to me; not uncommon in my fantasies but in the reality of my actions. I have never been a risk taker, never one to act on impulse, not until that moment; it appears I have been a ticking time bomb for years. The events which transpired have changed me, the experiences I have had because of that chance occurrence have truly defined me as a woman. One small incident, which was beyond my control, has led me on an adventure that has awakened my body and my soul. It caused me to truly look at my life, and to never give up on what I believe to be important. You may judge me all you wish, condemn my selfishness and my covetousness; but I do not care, worse has been said. My life is mine to demolish or nurture, and that outcome is still undecided. But I feel I am in a better place now, although the safety net has been removed, so has the tedium. But enough with my sentimental reflections, and on with my tale of desire and awakening.
Kalcha kisses me on the mouth, fiercely, yet dispassionately; I am indifferent to the familiar sensation of his beard tickling my chin. His desire for me has long diminished but the severity of his nature is still plain. I have no more sorrow to bestow on the matter, such is life. After eight years together boredom sets in and one heeds less and less. His response to me is almost unkind in its indifference; how I long for real love and real passion. But my bed has been made and thus I must lay in it, isn’t that is what they say? We speak our detached goodbyes and I depart from our home, preparing myself for the grind of the office, the grind being more mentally draining than physical.
The office appears quiet; I am one of the first to arrive. With the beast trade not being what it once was, no one is in a rush to land. Sales are slow and the quality of the creatures weakened. I hate my job, it’s shit. I can’t make enough bullion for ample supplies and the leak in our roof has been an annoyance for too long now. Excursions beyond the compound are at a low, so Kalcha cannot provide like he once could, perhaps also a reason for his being in the doldrums.
The receptionist, Lorel, greets me as I enter; her kind smile almost a distraction from her knife ears. A defect not too severe, hence her appearance behind the desk rather than inside the selling stalls. I smile back, insincerely, and make my way to the stables. It smells of piss and sweat back here. This is where the real work transpires. I spy Ranril, shirtless, his olive skin glistening from perspiration; he’s shovelling muck, but somehow he performs the menial task with alluring flair. He catches my eye and smiles; all other thoughts tumble from my brain, that smile and his naked flesh has become the centre of my universe. For years now we have amused ourselves with coquettish talk, mostly harmless but from time to time crossing over into verbal debauchery but I am taken, therefore it is wrong. Our gaze lingers longer than it should between co workers. Flustered, I busy myself with a young silver scaled draglin; it’s squawking, so I throw it some strips of meat and wipe my hands on my skirt. I continue down the line of cages, most of them empty. I pause at one, occupied by what appears to be a beautiful woman if it wasn't for the thick coating of tiger fur that covers her form. She’s licking her pelt and purring until she spies me, subsequently hurling herself at the cage door hissing and clawing, thus why we cannot ship her. Beauty sells, but hostility is a deal breaker, not that I can blame the poor thing. I glance back at Ranril and contemplate his broad shoulders and narrow hips.
‘If she don’t sell soon, we’ll have to dispose of ‘er.’ It’s Osur, the manager, he must have appeared while my thoughts were elsewhere; his bald little head so shiny that I can almost perceive my reflection.
‘I know.’ I say sadly, even though that fate is probably far kinder than if she were sold.
‘You’d think a thing like ‘er would be snapped up, what with all those perv’s out there.’ He’s smirking at me, his eyes loitering on my chest. I know he’s thinking about fucking me; I shudder at the idea.
‘Maybe they’re scared she’ll bite their cock off.’ I say flatly, giving the greasy little toad a grin.
‘I think you have the truth of it there darling, now run along and make some appeals will ya, we need to shift at least one of these freaks by the end of the week.’ He winks at me, then reaches around my waist with his arm, I believe the destination is my arse but I grab his hand before it disembarks, and push it back towards him, smiling so as not to seem too abrupt; he is my boss after all. ‘Feisty little wench.’ He says cruelly, biting his bottom lip; I have an overwhelming urge to kick him but I resist, smile courteously, and make my way back to the office, shooting one last longing look at Ranril, envisaging him pushing me up against the filth stained wall, apt considering the things I want to do to him.
My list of clients is sparse; I do not know how I am going to perform my trade. Nobody is buying, as nobody can afford our prices. The economy is fucked, in addition to my roof and my marriage. What is a girl to do? Sometimes I fantasise about being born anything other than human; my options would be nonexistent, my future premeditated. I could never make a lapse judgment because I would have no judgement. We’re all looking for direction and answers, if I were born different I would have those thrust upon me in abundance. My life would be someone else’s to destroy, my responsibility would be obsolete. Instead I have to ponder day in and day out - which is the right way to go? A constant battle with my morals, an all out war with my contradictions. If I were a godly woman I could pray, I could follow the guidelines to rapture. My desires and beastly urges I could repress for fear of damnation, but I do not believe, and besides damnation looks like fun.
The scroll before me has become a blur, my mind is wondering to Kalcha and our doomed affiliation. I loved him profoundly, once; our passion ran deeper than the Rivers of Tiat. However now we just subsist in a lacklustre manner. His touch was once a rush of desire but now it repulses me to my core. There is no grand explanation for this; he has done me no injury. It is simply nature. Yet is it the same nature that decided man and woman should be joined for eternity, their love everlasting? Their eyes never wandering? Is nature something that has been inflicted on us from past human endeavours, our ancestors, a guide to what is right? Has it been forcibly fashioned over the generations to give us pre-eminence over other creatures? Or is nature simply the burning desire to fuck? A dirty phrase; if said openly by any woman would result in a public lashing. For we are better than this, our integrity wins over our desires. But I believe my integrity is my desire, I should embrace this, for there is no shame in fucking, besides, that is how we arrived here. The shame lies in the mistake of giving my life to someone else, when really the only person it belongs to is me. The shame is in believing the traditions and rituals handed to me by others, the same others that make me feel sullied by my thoughts. I am owned in every respect, in a way worse than the other creatures, for they have no delusions over their constraints.
‘This is a futile task Rosalyn, we should abandon this place!’ Toom throws back his head dramatically in feigned ruin. His mane of blonde hair dances across his shoulders.
I laugh. ‘You are right my friend, but where would we go?’I put my elbows on the oak desk and gaze into his emerald eyes.
‘Well, I shall head north to till my land and fuck my slaves!’ He’s grinning at me, an arrogant expression.
‘Good luck bearing north Toom, last I heard the lycanthrope rule most of that land.’ I look back down at my scroll and stare at it hard, as if willing more names to appear.
‘Ha! They are no match for I, my father was a wizard you know.’
‘Yes I’m sure if you direct that bit of information at them they will run screaming for the hills’ I roll my eyes and start to contemplate Ranril’s back muscles, my eyes glaze over.
‘Sarcasm is not befitting of a lady, but then I suppose..’
‘I’m not a lady?’ I cut him off and dare him to continue with his rebuke.
He laughs and waves away the air of tension. ‘Now, now princess, these are trying times, but let us not fight among ourselves.’ It’s hard to be annoyed with Toom, besides he meant no harm. I presume it’s just my own apprehensions.
The morning drags, not a soul enters the office. Toom’s conversation soon drifts away and I can’t bring myself to talk to Lorel, for obvious reasons. How I long to head into the stables and converse with Ranril, but I have no excuse for being there. So I busy myself with tidying, conforming to the stereotype expected of me. I don’t know how much more of this monotony I can take. Osur walks by my desk and smirks; the ugly little shit makes my skin crawl.
‘Ros, could you step into my office for a minute please?’ he asks, his voice dripping like oil.
‘Yes of course.’ I push back my chair and stand, my sandals swishing with the rushes.
His office is a cramped space that stinks of musk and genitalia. It is best to avoid this room at all costs; I dread to think why he has summoned me.
‘Is everything ok?’ he asks, with what I imagine he believes is a concerned tone but in reality just sounds sinister.
‘Yes everything is great.’ I lie.
‘Ummm, you seem, preoccupied, you’re not performing as well as you should be.’ He’s closing the door, I suddenly feel very claustrophobic.
‘It’s difficult to perform to an empty theatre.’ He’s standing awfully close to me; I can practically smell his rank breath.
‘A girl as lovely as you certainly needs an audience.’ His stare is unnerving, as if I’m naked under his gaze.
I swallow and say ‘It would be helpful.’ He’s sitting on his desk directly in front of me, his fat little legs spread out, as if in offering.
‘If I can be helpful to you in any way, just say.’ He’s rubbing his thighs; if this wasn’t so comical I think I would be sick.
‘I can’t think of anything right now, but thank you’. Avoiding all eye contact I turn to leave. But he grabs my wrist, spins me around and pulls me in-between his legs. I slam into his pigeon chest; the force of the maneuver winding me.
‘I don’t think you’re quite getting this are you girl?’ His forged concern suddenly replaced with malice
‘No, no I think I get it.’ He’s still got hold of my wrist and I try unsuccessfully to push him away with my free hand. But he’s stronger than he looks; his other hand is fumbling at my skirt, hitching it up. I gasp as he gropes clumsily at my crotch.
‘Come on love, don’t be a fucking tease.’ He rasps in my ear.
‘Get off me!’ I start clawing at his eyes. Who does he think he is? He has no right! I dig my nails in harder, excited by the prospective pop of an eyeball. He cries out and loosens his grasp. I stumble backwards, breathing heavily from fear. ‘I quit, you disgusting little man, I fucking quit!’ Tears are rolling down my cheeks. Three years I have put up with his tasteless behavior, and for what? Why have I subjected myself to such degradation. Just another example of control, that’s all anyone ever wants to do! And I have enabled their conduct for too long.
‘You fucking little whore!’ His eye is bleeding; some small form of retribution. He’s wiping at it erratically.
‘You’ll not find any more work, I’ll make sure of it, I will tell everyone what a vile slut you are, especially that husband of yours, by the time I’ve finished no one will want anything more to do with you!’ Rage is exuding from his body; fear is shrouding mine. I don’t know what to say, so I turn and flee, as he follows me to the door shouting. ‘Be gone with you!’ following it up with. ‘She attacked me! Completely unprovoked, she attacked me! Someone call the city watch!’
I run as fast as I can, past Toom and then Lorel, I don’t look at either of them, I feel so ashamed. The afternoon sunlight greets me like a slap in the face. I should go home and tell Kalcha what has happened, but I know the outcome, it will have been my fault. I will have led him on, that is what women are like, and it is never a man’s fault for misinterpreting a woman’s manner. So I decide to walk, with no destination in mind.
Control, that is all anyone ever wants. I’ve been part of the system for years, selling these creatures into slavery, because I have been conditioned; this is the way it shall be, this is the way it has always been. Our history of merciless deeds an excuse for our future. I know what I should do, I double back on myself and head in the direction I already trod.
The stable is empty of people, I am slightly disappointed Ranril is not preset, but it’s probably for the best. I spy the key cupboard on the far wall and I know full well that it will be unlocked. I begin with the nearest gate, where the draglin is housed.
‘What are you doing?’ A deep, honeyed voice sounds from behind me.
I spin around, shocked. ‘I....I’m setting them free!’ I cry at Ranril, my voice sounds pathetic in comparison.
‘Do you think that wise?’ He cocks his lovely head on a side as if in great need of my reply.
‘Who are we to determine their fate?’ I can feel hot tears pricking my cheeks.
‘They are animals Rosalyn, they care not of fate; yes some may have similar forms to us but believe me they are not like us.’ His voice is a source of calm.
‘Because they are not like us they deserve this?’ I wave my arms around indicating the squalid conditions.
‘They should be free.’
‘A lovely sentiment. But if you set these things free on the city, many civilians will die at your hand.’ He’s moving towards me and the closer he gets the better he looks. My hands are shaking.
‘Then, I shall take them beyond the walls!’ I realise how ridiculous this sounds, but I feel backing down now will make me look a fool.
He laughs. ‘I admire your benevolent nature, you've hid it well.’ He’s stood right before me, his kind dark eyes, his lovely mouth and perfect nose only inches away from mine. ‘Why are you crying?’ He reaches up and gently brushes away a tear from my cheek.
I don’t want to tell him what happened, for fear he would look at me differently, as I'm very much enjoying the way he’s looking at me now. ‘I'm crying because of all the hurt in the world.’ Which is partially true, but I still have to stop myself from rolling my eyes at such a cloying response.
He’s laughing again, a beautiful sound that makes my soul sing. ‘Such a compassionate spirit.’ He says this with great sarcasm; and I immediately fall more in love with him.
I laugh, all my hurt and humiliation suddenly forgotten. ‘It’s a curse, really.’ Our faces are getting closer; I can feel his warm breath on my forehead, my whole body tingles in anticipation. Our lips are pressed together; not one part of this feels wrong as his tongue explores my wanting mouth. I moan slightly and press my body against his naked chest. Something is happening inside my head, something I have never experienced until now, a fizzing - no it’s more intense than that; a detonation of my psyche, or to put it plainly, magic. It feels like fucking magic. His hands clasp around my arse, pushing my groin into his. He suddenly pulls away from me and I feel my whole world collapse.
‘In here.’ He pulls me in the direction of an empty cage; he could be dragging me to hell and I would still eagerly follow. The growling of the tiger women is becoming more intense, she’s snapping at the bars in a fury, but I don’t care, let her watch on in frustration. I’m on my back, mingling with the coarse hay that scratches at my bare arms, and Ranril is tearing at my bodice. I’m tugging at his breaches, longing to clasp his member and fondle it rigid. I’m gasping for air, through pure yearning and coveting the weight of his solid body. My pert breasts are finally free; the cool air puckers my aroused nipples further. He pulls away from my lips and begins covering my neck with kisses, moving onto my chest he encloses my nipple in his mouth, sucking and biting at it playfully; I let out a loud groan, the sensitivity a wonder. I’m grinding against his groin, blissful of his hard bulge that I’ve wrought through my sexuality.
‘By the love of the gods, Ranril, fuck me!’ I cry out, completely senseless to our discretion.
He abruptly sits back on his haunches and with one swift expert movement wrenches off my skirt and undergarments. I let out an involuntary giggle, and look deep into his beautiful eyes, he laughs his lilting laugh.
‘My dear, it would an honour.’ I’m utterly aware of my nakedness, it feels fitting to his sexual fibre; this is how things should be. I wet my thumb and index finger and start tweaking my rock hard nipple, and with my other hand reach down and stroke, very softly, at my swollen sex. Ranril watches me as I pleasure myself, the hunger in his eyes incredibly apparent. I roll back my head, my whole body trembling from the physical sensations and the erotica of having this magnificent looking spectator. I whimper, and insert three fingers into my dripping cunt, longing for Ranril’s weight to slap against my naked form. I lift my buttocks off the hay, plunging forcefully with my digits. I look intensely at him; his cock is in his hand, he’s stroking it lovingly and scrutinising my every move. I watch his hand work his swollen shaft. His member is rock hard, fat, and lengthy, how I long for him to impale me. He grabs my thighs roughly and pulls my onto his lap, the strength in his embrace takes my breath away. I push my mouth against his and our tongues wantonly explore each other’s opening. He wraps his arms around my waist and lifts me up slightly, positioning me over his throbbing cock. My breasts press against his chest, skin on skin. I want him so much I want to be him, be inside him, wear him! I’m panting, I’ve never sought anything this much. Once his cock is inside me, all my struggles will be resolved; his dick like a pardoning implement.
I drive down onto his cock, which such force I’m rendered breathless, he cries out and buries his face in my neck. I dig my nails into his back, gasp and lift my weight up, slamming it back down onto him. The slapping of naked flesh is exhilarating, our sweaty bodies so close that we are practically one. His cock so deep inside me, that it could be mine. We’re crying out, grunting and moaning, Ranril’s vociferous mode a stark contrast to Kalcha’s mute love making. We’re oblivious to our surroundings, all else is inconsequential. I can’t think beyond Ranril’s body, his quick shoves in response to my grinding cunt, his breath jagged and deep in my ear, the smell of his tanned body, sweat and sex and animals.
He pushes me onto my back, with brute force, he could do serious harm to me if he so wished, and the thought makes me giddy. I spread my legs as far as I can and guide him inside me, he’s become a man possessed, thrusting into me brutally, I’m crying out from pain and pleasure, I don’t want him to stop, I wrap my legs around him and push up to greet his sharp propulsions. I feel like I’m about to collide with a wave of pleasure, it’s very lucid at first but every throbbing plunge brings about a greater more robust surge; the intensity begins to scare me, I try to wiggle away from the overwhelming sensation, but Ranril has me pinned to the ground, I try to focus on the snarling tiger woman, I was unaware of her raucous behaviour, she is practically howling now but it sounds far off, like I’m underwater. So I have no choice but to ride it; to give into the encompassing wave.
I’m so awakened by his body, every one of my senses is in tune with him; it is all about him. I scream out and grasp at his sweaty hair, he takes this as a sign to drive into me even harder, my whole body clenches like a fist, then relaxes, my pussy tightening around his cock. Wave after wave of blissful ecstasy slaps against me. My clitoris is throbbing; my entire cunt is alive. He lifts his head up from my neck and his eyes penetrate me. He smiles, and I watch his face crumple, he looks as though he’s about to cry. ‘Oh fuck, oh fuck. .’ He moans. He’s still driving into me, but we both know he should be pulling out. I’m still gasping and writhing from my own climax, so part of me does not want him to vacate. ‘I’m gonna, I’m gonna...’ He draws himself back and onto his elbows. There is a muffled squelching as he withdraws, I immediately begin to slap at my sopping groin, endeavouring to keep the fire alive. He straddles my stomach, quickly working his cock. I reach under and cup his balls, squeezing them slightly; I’m still writhing and moaning. He lets out one final cry as his seed jets out and across my tits, it’s gushing everywhere and my eyes are wide with delightful surprise. Ranril’s mouth is hanging open, his pleasure so intense that it could be confused with pain. His body produces a final shudder before he slumps back. It was superb to witness him reach such heights, knowing that it was I who drove him there. I’m biting my lip and smiling audaciously at him, my eyes alive with impish delight, his clouded over with elation and his smile a sure sign of fulfilment. He shuffles back on his knees and drops down onto me, the gentle collision of naked flesh causes me to laugh out. I wrap my arms and legs around him, never wanting him to escape the pose. He props himself up on his elbows and gentle brushes my hair from my face. ‘You’re something else, you know that?’ He pants.
‘Yes, I know.’ I say playfully.
He laughs and flops onto his back; we’re still breathing heavily. I reach for some of the flattened hay and try to remove his come from my breasts. ‘Here let me.’ He takes the hay from me and, courteously as one can in such a situation, begins dabbing at my chest. It’s all very surreal that I have to laugh at the ridiculousness of it. He beams back at me, discards the soiled hay, and kisses me passionately on the mouth, running his hands all over my naked body; I feel my nipples turn rigid.
‘Well, well, well. Lookie what we got here.’ A horrible oily voice sounds from the entrance.
Horror pulses through my body, followed closely by humiliation. I grope frantically for my clothes, anything to cover my exposed frame. ‘It appears I was right about you, slut.’ He spits the words; I can practically feel his saliva on my bare skin. I look at Ranril; he’s pulling on his breaches somewhat calmly, I’m shaking.
‘Sorry Ser. I understand the inappropriateness of. ..’ Ranril is cut off.
‘Do you boy? And do you understand this? You’re fired!’ His face is bright red and steam is practically emitting from his ears. He looks at me and says. ‘You, I’ve already fired! Now get out, this is an upmarket establishment, I don’t need it bringing down with whores like you!’
He has nothing over me anymore; I should be screaming and shouting at the bigoted predator. I should be calling him out on all his wrong doings. But instead I stand there, fumbling with the clasp on my bodice. I can feel tears welling up; I can feel my cheeks burning from shame and rage. Say something you stupid girl! ‘One day Osur, you will get what is coming to you. You chauvinist piece of pig shit.’ I spurt my bile coated words at him, my eyes bearing into his very soul. I’m mentally tearing chucks of flesh from bone. ‘And you didn’t fire me, I quit!’ I have clearly up upended him, if only for a fleeting moment, but that is enough. Even Ranril looks taken aback.
‘Get out! Get out! Both of you get out!’ He looks as though he is about to implode. ‘Wait till I spread this around Vesale, everybody will know! You’re finished.’ He’s clenching his fists and shaking. His bald little head looks like a cannon ball ready to blow.
I turn from the disgusting man and make my way from the cell, Ranril follows me. As I pass the Tiger Woman I am convinced that she winks at me. We exit through the back door and out into the glaring sunlight.
‘Sorry.’ I say, for I truly am, I did not mean for him to become jobless.
He laughs in reply. ‘No worries lovely, it was a shit job anyway. So I can honestly say you were worth it.’
‘Oh thanks!’ I say, playfully punching him on the arm.
‘You know what I mean.’ A warning should come with his smile.
‘I have to get home; I need to see Kalcha before someone else does.’ I study his face for any sign of disappointment. If he feels it, he hides it well.
‘I understand.’ He nods and shields his eyes from the sun with his hand. ‘I need to get looking for a new job.’
‘If you find anything let me know.’ I want to embrace him; and smother him in kisses, but I know I cannot.
‘Sure thing.’ We’re stood staring at each other; I don’t want to look away, for if I do he will be gone, and when he’s gone the seriousness of my circumstance will crash down upon me like an anvil.
What have I done? I ask myself. I’m at home sitting in the kitchen nursing a bottle of rum. My head is in my hands and I’m crying, although no tears fall, as my limit is spent. Kalcha is nowhere to be seen, and this fills me with dread. He’ll be at the tavern and the rumours will be rife. He knows.
Its times like this you realises how much you could lose, even though in fantasy you have thrown it away a hundred times. Am I distressed because I will lose my home, I will be an outcast, people will spit at me in the street, and I will be driven from the safety of Vesale’s walls? Or because I have betrayed and deeply hurt someone I care for? When I reflect on the matter this way I know I fear more for myself than Kalcha. I knock back another mouthful of the delicious comforting rum. Will he even care about the idea of Ranril’s hands on my naked body, how much I craved him, desired him? Or will the humiliation that others know be the sting? This is the answer I seek, for if it is the latter my guilt will be diminished.
The front door slams shut, I practically leap out of my seat, spilling the rum down the front of my bodice; I curse loudly at the waste. An eternity seems to pass before he appears in the door way, his great hulking mass a silhouette of doom. He steps into the light of the kitchen; His face like an open book of candour, I need not ponder the question any longer. He knows. He cares, deeply. I lose all control, and weep with raw guilt.
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