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“It’s normal to be scared.” Margaret says softly. “I’ve really been able to discover who I am, be comfortable with my own wolf— by not being immediately mated. This self discovery time is my fate. I know the Goddess will bless me once I am ready.” I smile politely. Any comment on this conversation other than agreement is unnecessary. Her experience is hers. “May the Goddess bless you.” I say in return unsure of how to respond. “How are things at Beta Vtoroy’s estate?” I say in a bid to change the topic. “Security has been increased. There is unrest near the woods and along our borders.” She says quietly. “Unrest?” I ask, genuinely shocked. “Yes. Chairman Zhadnost came to the estate a few days ago and had a meeting with the Alpha and Beta. The bank has lost assets to attacks they allege are being done by rogues and anti-monarchists.” “Anti-monarchists?” I whisper. “Yes. People are openly rallying against the crown. Refusing to work or fund the crown. Hangings are bein
I stare at my reflection in the mirror. My crown of braided hair is intricately weaved and neatly pinned into an elegant updo. My hair is my glory. Many slaves have been forced to shear their hair closely; some for practicality others on the whims of their masters. I have always kept mine neatly coiled, hidden away from others and their envy. I pine to pin the cathedral length veil in my hair— Oh the drama of it! The last seven years spent hiding away ended with a dramatic entrance with an artisan’s stitch work so delicately laid trailing behind me for the length of a man. I must instead settle for the decidedly more modest floor length veil I had originally stitched for myself. Small daffodils, marigolds, and peach blossoms carefully embroidered around the edges. I smooth my gown and take it in. The dress itself is simple in design. Perfectly tailored to my body, the scoop neck basque waist dress accentuates my slender curves. My décolletage on display, my unmarked neck a siren so
The Book of the Spirit Wolf “Moon Ceremony” 1. Attire Our Mother. Our Goddess, our most Holy Selene welcomes us in the light of her full moon to meet our destined mates. To be fruitful and multiply. To continue our gifts as She intends for generations to come. When we greet our Goddess for the first time, we greet her as clean and pure. Dressed in whites to symbolize our purity. Our heads covered. Our other halves taking form to greet their Mother, our Goddess! We reveal ourselves completely in tribute to our enduring love and devotion to our Goddess, most high. Our benevolent beloved Goddess sees her children. If we are not yet prepared in Spirit, prepared in Body, prepared in Mind for our mate; we are made to wait. Our Goddess blesses us with time to repair ourselves. To devote ourselves to the Goddess. In devotion to the Goddess and to symbolize the dedication to self improvement we wear vibrant colors. The ride to the Moon Ceremony is short. The carriage provided by the
“Mate.” The low voice growls, the bass tone vibrates my body, compelling me to surrender. “Mate.” The word leaves my lips as a whisper on the wind. So quiet but full of intention. Breathy and wanton. Theia joyfully surges forward. It’s as if time stops. The crowd around me fades as I focus only on the specimen before me. Fresh rain on Evergreens and lemon thyme. The scent is familiar and intoxicating. “Everything belongs to me, little she-wolf, even you.” He whispers in my ear, his body painfully close to me. My knees feel weak. Just being in his presence is overwhelming. I can feel eyes burning into me. Hushed whispers buzzing around me. His fingers trace my collarbone and shamelessly dip between my breasts. Our heartbeats are synchronized, beating as one, as if our rhythm has always been in tune. “Prince Edward of Fives.” I say breathlessly. “I’m not sure I know your name.” He says in return. “Ceres, your highness.” I respond. “Sons and Daughters of Selene!” The Rev
I kneel and look up to him. His hand firmly grasping his scepter. His body looming over me, so large and powerful. “Open your pretty little mouth.” He commands. I comply. My mouth opened ready to take communion. He rubs the slick tip on my tongue. The taste divine, salty and savory. I open wider to accommodate his thick member. “Good girl.” He confirms, as he plunges himself into my mouth. My lips are straining to stretch to accommodate him. His assault on my mouth gagging me with the size both terrifying and exhilarating. I place my hands on his muscular hips as he thrusts into my mouth. His hips and backside powerfully thrusting roughly beating the back of my throat. I desperately try to breathe through my nose as he continues. My hands shift from bracing myself to trying to lessen the power of his thrusts. I pull back only for him to push the back of my head towards him, forcing me to take his entire length. Tears begin to stream down my cheeks as I am gagged by his massive m
“The priestesses will decide if you are worthy.” He says after a long moment of silence. “What?” I say, unclear what he means. His juices leaking like a river from my backside, my body too sore and battered to move. “The Immaculate Mother must accept you as my mate.” He says dryly. “You must pass the exams.” “Didn’t you just—- accept me?” I question feeling completely vulnerable and exposed. “No.” He laughs. “I just took you. I made sure not to seed your womb, so if you are forced to become a priestess or choose to die; at least I was able to taste you once and there are no complications.” His words disgust me. Instead of content and satisfied, I feel used and soiled. I feel Theia’s heartbreak as she whimpers and crawls into the darker corners of my mind. “I don’t understand.” I whisper. “Look, it isn’t personal. I’m destined to be King. I can’t just mate anyone.” He explains. His tone sterile, like he was reading from an encyclopedia. “I had a feeling this match was going
My face is barely above the water line as I scan the area looking for the person attached to the voice. I really am cursed. A woman emerges from the fog dressed in a pink sheer fabric draped elegantly across her body. The garment was fastened at the shoulder and a belt of gold cinches it at the waist. Garlands of flowers adorn her hair. “We have come to cleanse you.” She smiles. Women emerge from the fog in all directions carrying all the things a fine lady may have in her bath. Their dresses are all the colors of a meadow. Soft yellows and pinks, green gowns adorned with garlands of leaves, soft and sheer, the gowns melted into the water as they surround me. “Our Goddess has sent us to cleanse you and to remind you that your threads are woven together for a reason.” The woman in pink says. “The Immaculate Mother is coming, it is not safe for you here.” I whisper, as a girl scrubs my body with a soap that smells of honey and vanilla. “We are guarded. This space is protected.
The woman in pink claps her hands and the pond disappears and a meadow takes its place. My body dry and clean, I stand naked. The women who were just moments ago washing and perfuming my body disappear into mist. With a small bow, the woman in pink does as well. On the wind I hear her reminder. “Follow your path without judgment.” Asteria takes a stick and carves a circle into the ground. “What are you doing?” I ask. “We will hold our ritual. It is safe here.” She says plainly. “So you will give me a name?” I ask, unsure of how any of these rituals work. “Yes. I will name you. The ancestors have already whispered your name to me in my dreams.” She confides. “Stand within the circle. No matter what happens, do not leave the circle.” “What do you mean, no matter what happens? What do you expect?” I ask. “You can never anticipate what may appear outside the circle. Just heed my warning and do not leave it until I say.” She says firmly. She stands in the circle, arms raised an