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A Study of Connections

Part 9

For a-lycotonum

By Draconicon

It was one thing to walk through the forest in her normal clothes. Barefooting it last time hadn't been that bad, despite the fact that the forest floor was rough and the roots were quick to move into her path. The stubbed toes had been bad enough that time. This time, she was walking in a dress that didn't really have much in the way of a skirt, a dress designed to shame those that wore it and remind them of what a proper woman was supposed to act like. The fact that she had to walk beside a hobgoblin, and one that very obviously wanted to take things further than they already had, was not making it easier.

And nor were her canine parts down there.

Shut up, she told them, not wanting to think about being pinned against a tree and rutted right then. It was an appealing idea, particularly if she could have had a wolf fucking her, or a hellhound. Vitus popped back into her head again, and she had to force that mental image down and away. The last thing that she needed was to start thinking of his knot again.

As she walked along, she occasionally glanced at the hobgoblin chieftain again. He kept looking straight ahead, but she kept getting little twitches out of the corner of her eye that made it clear that he kept looking back at her when she wasn't paying as much attention. She wondered if he was just making sure that she was following, or...

Well, he might have been staring at her breasts. They were on the verge of falling out of this dress, and the red cloth had a way of cupping them that her green robes hadn't. She blushed a little as she imagined how it would feel to walk around with them out, showing off like a true slut.

Then she felt her pussy clench at the thought, and immediately put it out of her head.

"Mmmph..."

"You okay?" he asked.

"Just not enjoying the...temptations."

"Heat?"

"It's going to be. Later."

That was the problem with the celebration. The more that you waited, the longer that you held off, the more that the breeding urges that the blessed ritual called out. She had already felt the arousal the last few nights, and there were times when she'd wanted nothing more than to find someone and get 'bred' so that the urges would go away. That said, she knew better than to expect there to be someone waiting for her, and knew that common sense would demand that she kept her canine sex covered.

It didn't mean that the urges weren't there, though.

They approached the hobgoblin camp, and as they did, she saw Mol waiting for them at the edge of the tents. The older female arched an eyebrow at her as she came closer, and the seer chuckled.

"Well, well, well. What have we here?"

"Shut up," Hazel muttered.

"Oh, really? And why should I? You're starting to show it off like a little strumpet? Trying to get Vakky's attention after all?"

"No, she's being punished," the chieftain said, shaking his head. "We didn't have a very good day."

"...Damn. And here I thought humans didn't want to admit sexy things existed."

Hazel blushed worse at that, trying not to think about how exposed she was, and how very much she would have preferred to hide right then and there. It would have been great to just pretend that her body was completely covered up, that she had shoes, that she had leggings, that she had anything that would have hidden just how slutty she looked right then.

But there was nothing. Nothing at all. And that meant dealing with it.

She took a deep breath, following Vakrozad and Mol back into the camp. The other hobgoblins gave her a nod of welcome, some of them grinning at her, and she wondered if Mol had spread the information from her vision through the camp. She hoped not. She was not planning on letting 'Vakky' get her on her back for anything.

They reached the central fire in the camp, sitting down around the large, flaring pillar of light. Vakrozad groaned as he put his feet up on a stump, and she did the same. The groaning, not putting her feet up. She didn't want to show off more than she had to.

"Well, Tristan didn't have a clue about her," Vakrozad said. "And she ain't a were."

"Oh, ho."

"Yeah. Old hellhound stuff."

"Oh, really now?"

She grumbled under her breath. There'd been some back and forth between her and Mol about Melchiresa already, but she had the feeling that the talk was going to get a hell of a lot more raunchy from now on. That was going to be all kinds of fun.

Hoping to head it off, she waved her hand.

"Hey. There's more to talk about."

"...Yeah, guess there is. Even though I'd like to know how you handled that," Vakrozad chuckled.

"Off...the point..."

"Yeah, yeah. Anyway, Mol, she found a book, and it was pretty fucking interesting. It was all about the Primal Points, and the one up here, in particular."

That had the older hobgoblin's interest right away. Hazel shifted a bit on the stump of wood, getting comfortable as she explained what she'd seen.

As she got to the point of the stag and the hound mixing together in the bed, Mol tapped her chin. The old seer was obviously interested, but wasn't saying anything just yet. Instead, she hummed to herself. Hazel sighed.

"Look. I know it's not much. We didn't get the chance to see the end of the story before the others tripped the alarm and we had to run. I should get a chance to see it tomorrow, though, before we get pulled into another meeting."

"That will be very interesting," Mol said, nodding her head. "And little Tristan had that hidden all this time? Cheeky devil..."

"...Come to think of it, I have a question. And I think it's my turn to ask it."

"Shoot," Vakrozad said, stirring the fire.

"You and Mol keep calling the high priest Tristan. Not by his family name or title, but by his given name. Do you know him?"

The hobgoblins froze, looking at each other. They didn't say anything for a few seconds, almost like they were debating whether to speak at all. It was Mol, however, that finally broke the silence, and she did it with a laugh.

"Heh, I keep forgetting they sent a smart one."

"Oh, fucking hell..." Vakrozad sighed. "Shoulda been watching my mouth instead of her tits."

"If it means giving me more information, I give you permission to stare at them as much as you like."

"...Really?"

"...As long as they stay in the dress, yes."

"Dammit!"

The chieftain laughed, though, and she smiled slightly. A bit from the fact that she'd gotten him to laugh, and a bit to hide the fact that she felt a bit of frustration. She'd...almost wanted him to push, she realized, and she shivered as she reached for the pendant around her neck.

Calm. No heat. Calm. No heat.

The pendant that Aster had given her continued to offer some sort of soothing ease, but it brought something else with it. Something that made her feel relaxed, and not just relaxed the way that she might have been with a good book. No, it was more like how she'd feel after a couple of glasses of wine, and that wasn't something that she really wanted right then. She needed to be focused, not impaired.

But she needed to keep that heat at bay even more. She needed to not be thinking with her crotch right then.

"So...how do you know him?" she asked again.

"Well, little Tristan wasn't always a churchman, you know," Mol said. "He used to be one of those boys that followed the bandits around."

"Tristan? A bandit?" she asked, arching an eyebrow. "I find that hard to believe."

"Well, he was," Mol said, smirking. "And he wasn't a bandit. He was a camp follower."

"...Are you calling him a...a..."

"Yeah, your high priest was a bum boy. A whore, really. He loved the monster girls, too. Things like me, blessed with a little something 'extra'," Mol said with a wink and a smirk.

The image of Tristan giving himself up to shemales like Mol was not exactly a mental image that she expected, but it wasn't...unfitting. She remembered the stare that she'd gotten as soon as Vakrozad lifted her skirt. There'd been anger there, yeah, but there'd been fascination, too, something that was more than just academic. She had a feeling that his interest spanned more than just women that had a little something 'extra', but rather that anyone that had something different than what they were born with.

She shook her head, putting the image of a younger high priest on his knees out of her head. Not what she needed.

"So...you knew him then?"

"Yeah, some of them came by for a reading," Mol said. "Vakky here was just starting down his road to being chief. We were still pretty close with Melchiresa back then, too. Probably was where Tristan started getting interested in the Demon Lords as much as the gods, come to think of it. Then again, he was doing most of his praying to a different god, if you know what I'm saying."

Hazel got it, alright, and she was trying her best not to dwell on it for long. It wasn't going that well, either. She grumbled, rubbing her head to try and get rid of the worst of those pictures, though the mental image of the head of the temple sucking on some centaur cock just didn't want to go away. She slapped her cheeks until it gave up and did so.

Mol, of course, had more to say, and she did her best to keep the older hobgoblin focused on the pertinent facts.

"But you knew him?"

"Yeah, knew him. He was a spunky little guy. Never shied away from the monsters because they were monsters or anything like that. Got scared, of course, but never for long. Always came crawling back. Heh. He had balls.

"But he was different than the other little whores that they kept gathering, too. He had this dream, or something like that. He dreamed that the monsters weren't as bad as people said. So, he decided to find out for himself. Number of times that he had to be 'healed' from corruption, though...Heh." Mol shook her head in amusement. "I haven't thought about that for a long time."

"I still can't get over the fact that he was doing that...and that he's a priest afterward. I guess he had a lot of atoning to do," she muttered, shaking her head.

"Less than you'd think. I think it was all that time with the monsters that made him want to be a high priest in the first place."

"You - oh..."

She blinked, thinking back to something that he had said all that time ago. Tristan had been very sad, almost, when he had said that it wasn't man or elf that made him want to be a priest. He'd refused to go deeper into details, and if this was the reason, she could see why. It would be suicide for most people to know that the priest of a church had been nothing but a monster-whore in his past.

Even if he had moved on from that later, it would carry a death sentence to any real conviction of moral superiority. She could see Aster ripping him apart, or the other conservatives pushing to replace him on moral grounds. After all, what could someone like that know about how to run a church of moral folks?

She looked down at her dress. Even now, even though they had taken so many steps forward, the church of Erastil still looked down on those that wouldn't commit to a family. They wanted everyone bound together in happy little pairs, no more and no less. The traditionalists even looked down on two of the same gender being together, let alone those that were wanting more than that. Werewolves were right out, considering that they had pack-bonding, and many monsters were seen as worse.

If Tristan had gone through that, she could see how it would have given him a different understanding...and a different connection to the tenets of the church.

Love was supposed to be Erastil's watchword, but under the old guard, it had been their love or nothing. He was trying to change it, and...

And he was, perhaps, the only one that might be able to. He had been a 'fallen' man, as far as the church had been concerned, and had worked his way up their ranks and become something different, someone that could, one day, change the church. And...and he had been in the company of those that followed demons, so he knew what they were like. He would, at least, have better experience with them than the majority of the church.

He'd be the only one that knew the difference between something truly corrupt and something just a little different, she realized. And that's invaluable if you're trying to bring something new into something as old as this...

"I see," was all she could say to the realizations that were pouring through her skull.

"Heh, I guess you do."

"What do you mean?"

"You've been staring slack-jawed by the last three minutes. Was starting to think I'd need to throw water on you."

She blushed at that, rubbing the back of her head. She hadn't meant to conk out like that, but now that she thought about it, she supposed it wasn't that surprising. Shaking her head, she looked up at Vakrozad.

"You knew him, too?"

"Just as another scrapper. Used to wrestle with him," the chieftain admitted. "That was before I got this strong, though."

"And before you stopped fucking boys," Mol added.

"Mol!"

"Hehehehe."

"...Stopped fucking guys?" Hazel asked.

"Yeah, um, kinda used to think I was gay," he admitted. "You can blame the seer for that. Her and that prick of hers...Anyway. Thought I was gay, and a bottom. Then I found my first real woman, and...yeah. That was better."

She nodded, looking out at the rest of the camp. She imagined it helped him stay chieftain, too, considering that all the hobgoblins were powerful folk in their own right. The more that they fought each other, the more that they probably learned how to fight others. They were constantly pushing each other, seeing who was the strongest. And if Vakrozad wasn't tempted to bottom for them, that'd help him keep his place.

Still, it was an amusing mental image. More amusing than Tristan wandering around a camp and doing...that.

Hazel pulled her legs up a bit, feeling the red silk slip between her thighs. So many changes had happened, and they'd happened so fast, that she didn't know what to think. All she knew was that the world that she had known was being blown apart bit by bit. The world wasn't ruled by all-powerful, good gods that were opposed by demons from time to time. The world wasn't filled with a divide between monsters and civilized races, with one being evil and the other good. It was far, far more complicated than that.

As she rested her bare feet against the stump, she could hear a few footsteps coming from behind. She looked over her shoulder, blinking as she saw a couple of hobgoblins returning to the camp, but not alone. They each had a human female with them, dragged along from the village. Her eyes widened as she saw the collars around their necks.

Her mouth hung open as the young women were dragged to the tents, stripped on the way there. She caught sight of more than a bit of skin, including the view of one hobgoblin shoving his finger up one woman's ass. The other woman didn't even scream. She just moaned, giggled, and went along with it.

"Oh...gods..."

"What?" Vakrozad asked.

"How many people are you collaring? No, no. How many have you already done that to?" she asked.

"Uh...Mol, how many did you make?" Vakrozad asked.

"Two for each warrior."

"So, about fifty, then? Yeah, something like that," the chieftain said, nodding. "Why?"

"That's...why?"

"Well, we need mates, too."

"But two each? Collared? Like...like..."

Like slaves, like animals, was what popped into her head, but she couldn't bring herself to say it. She still remembered the baker's daughter and how she had been ever so eager to be collared and kept. She remembered the vision, more, and she remembered how she had felt about the collar around her neck. The idea of wearing it, showing herself as...as property terrified her now, but it had been hot in the vision.

And some part of her still seemed to find it so, judging by the way that the silk was getting a bit sticky between her legs.

Desperately, she pushed the cloth a bit to the side, not enough to expose her, but enough to keep it from sticking to her spade. She shook her head.

"That's not right. That's not right."

"It's our way," Vakrozad said.

"And if I wasn't...saving myself...would you collar me?" she asked.

"Well...yeah. I'd love to."

"..."

She couldn't help but stare at him at such a casual answer. Here she was, trying to be understanding, and there he was just admitting that he'd happily collar her and keep her as a thing rather than as a person. The half-elf didn't know what to say or what to think. All she knew was that she was in a storm of emotion.

He must have got that from her expression, because he slapped a hand across his face.

"Ugh. Not like that."

"Well, how else, then?"

"Hey, you're hot. You're fiery. You hold your own real well. We can fight together. You saw how good we worked together in the Vault."

"...That's besides the point."

"And you basically said that you'd be with me if you weren't already claimed."

"That's not - I didn't say that! I said maybe!"

"And you know that I'm here, and he's not."

"..."

"Sorry," he said, shaking his head. "That...that wasn't called for."

"No. No, it wasn't."

She was getting all worked up, and that was the worst thing that she could be doing right then. The spell of the ritual was getting stronger, already starting up for the night. The suppressed arousal that she was keeping between her legs was turning into anger at not getting laid, and she wanted nothing more than to get someone, anyone, to pin her down and rut her and -

She gripped the pendant again, trying to bring that heat-soothing calmness back. It worked, but it kept making her feel almost drunk at the same time, and she didn't like that. She pulled her hand free, shaking her head.

"I should...I should probably go, Mol. That's everything that we found today, and I don't think I should stay tonight."

"Why's that?" Mol asked, grinding a finger down her ear. "You stink, and Vakky's got what you need to make it stop."

"BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO DO THAT!"

The scream echoed through the camp, and her cheeks burned hotter than ever. It was bad enough that she was turned on to the point of near-pain. It was worse that she was embarrassing herself in front of every hobgoblin in the area. She got to her feet and ran, kicking up dust as she did. She didn't dare look behind her; for that matter, she could barely look in front of her from how humiliated she felt.

Everything was confusing, wrong, not at all what it was supposed to be. She'd left Absalom behind, had meant to come to the temple to make a full report and then leave. She'd wanted to get back to Vitus, wanted to try and see what could be done with him. Maybe he would have been able to understand what it felt like to go about her days with a canine cunt between her legs; he had been the one to go through it first, and he had managed it. Maybe they could have figured it out together.

But no. What should have been a quick research project into the links between Melchiresa and Erastil before she went back to the great city had turned into a whole project, something that had the temple's leadership at stake, and her freedom, as well. She could feel the way that the magic was trying to make her slow down, to go back to the males, to partner and rut like some wild animal.

Worse, she could feel the power of Melchiresa in her making it that much more tempting. The parts of the hellhound between her legs wanted to be spread around a stiff prick, to feel it plundering her and rutting her. She needed it. It wasn't a want anymore, nor a craving. It was a need, a painful need that no amount of clutching the pendant would get rid of.

The half-elf stumbled through the trees, lunging between them with eyes that were blurry with embarrassed tears. She ran with her own slimes and juices running down between her legs, grinding against her thighs, dripping off her feet as they hit the bottom. She could feel the ground turning to mud, pine needles grinding against her soles, the dress flapping behind her and probably exposing her ass to anyone that tried to follow her. Hazel didn't care. All she cared about was putting as much distance between her and the males as she could, before she started thinking of what they could do to her again.

In that moment, she could not think of anything she hated more than Mol. That insensitive, horrible bitch. Pushing her, shoving her, making her -

Hazel stumbled, hitting the ground hard. It was just dirt rather than stone, but the ache still kept her from getting up right away. She groaned, gripping one of the roots near her.

"Gods...dammit..."

She wanted to cry. She wanted to fuck. She wanted to...to...

She didn't know what she wanted. All she knew was that things weren't right, and she didn't know how to make them better.

Gritting her teeth, she grabbed for the tree at her side. She was halfway back to her feet when she felt a bigger hand against her other shoulder, helping her up. It had to be Vakrozad; he was the only one around that was that big.

"Leave me alone."

"So you can throw yourself off a cliff?"

"There's no cliffs around here."

"Well, there's one over there."

Sniffing, she opened one eye a bit further. It wasn't a cliff so much as a drop from where a river fell to reach the next part, but it was still a fall of at least a dozen feet, maybe more. It would have been enough to brain her pretty good, and definitely enough to leave her doing worse than stumbling if she'd gone over. Her eyes had been too fogged up and bleary for her to make it out while she was running.

She sighed.

"Okay...I won't go over the cliff."

"You shouldn't be out here alone," he said, shaking his head. "And Mol needed to shut her mouth."

"Yeah...yeah, she did."

"But...she's not wrong, you know."

"...Don't," she whispered, trying not to beg. "Don't start."

"I'm just saying. It's not..." He wrinkled his nose. "It's not just that. You're in pain, aren't you?"

That was the least of the words for it. It was more like agony, the need going from her canine parts up to her womb, and then back down again. It was fantasy warring with reality, the urge to stay safe and stay herself fighting against the urge to belong to someone again, to feel what she had felt in the vision. She didn't know what was going to win, and she didn't know which she wanted to win anymore.

All she knew was that it hurt, and she needed to either get away or find something to relieve it. The former, apparently, wasn't going to happen.

"Why?" she muttered.

"Huh?"

"Why do you want to...to collar me?"

"...Why not?"

"Because I wouldn't be me. I wouldn't...I wouldn't be...Hazel. I'd just be yours."

"..."

She wanted some sort of answer, but it was increasingly clear that she wasn't going to get it. Shaking her head, she pushed off of his arm, managing to stand on her own...for a few seconds.

Hazel grunted as she leaned against a tree, her insides burning up, the urge to get with someone, to couple with them, getting almost overwhelmingly strong. The back of her red dress was soaked to her thighs and ass, and her juices were running hotter and stronger than ever. She hissed through her teeth as she tried to pull herself together, but her legs were shaking too much for her to risk letting go of the tree.

Looking over her shoulder, it was clear that the hobgoblin was staring at her with the same urges that he had felt before. She gritted her teeth, hating what she was being made to feel, but knew that there was nothing that she could do. She had to go with it...or at least, she had to allow a bit of it. She could ask more questions when she could think again, but for now, she needed to do this or she'd lose her mind.

It's for survival, she thought, thinking of Vitus again. I already allowed the dogs...but they weren't people. Vakrozad...I can't let him have...

Her pussy clenched, but she knew that this wasn't a true breeding heat. This wasn't something that would only be satisfied with a child in her womb. She could fool the spell, to an extent. She just needed...something.

Groaning against the tree, she slowly looked over her shoulder again. With a blush on her face, she swept the back of her dress out of the way, exposing her ass cheeks. Vakrozad's loincloth rose up, revealing just what he had to hide down there.

A sheath was the first thing she saw, as well as his heavy sac. They were pulled down by their own weight, full and rounded, and looking like they were churning even then. They were shiny, too, and she bit her lips as she smelled the hot scent coming off them.

As he walked forward, a slender-tipped, thickening shaft pointing towards her, she held out her hand.

"Just...just one thing."

"What?"

"Not in my...not my sex..."

"Then..."

"Anal."

She bit at the word as she said it, not wanting to think about how it almost matched the vision that she had had. They weren't in the same place, weren't in the same situation, and she wasn't collared, but she was going to be giving him her ass so that she didn't have to let him use her pussy.

It's not going to go that way, she told herself as the hobgoblin walked up to her.

It's not going to go that way, she told herself as his cock started sliding between her ass cheeks.

It's not going to go that way, she told herself as the tip pressed against her pucker.

It's not -

And then it was. She gasped as she felt the tip of his cock grinding against her pucker, rubbing pre-cum against her twitching hole before it slid right in. The tip was so wet and narrow compared to the rest of the shaft that it was easy for it to slide past her resistance, and the slime that it spread across her asshole was more than slippery enough for him to keep going in, even with her inexperience.

To her great shock, it felt...good. Not without pain, not without friction, but good. The heat of that thing against her pucker, the way that it was spreading her in a way that most civilized creatures would never do, the way that it was shaped just perfectly to take her and fill her up without her needing to prepare -

"Fuck..."

She hissed as she was pressed forward, her head pinned against the tree, her rump pulled up so that it was at a better angle for the big guy. She could feel him grinding forward, his cock thickening, forcing her hole open. Her toes curled into the dirt as she felt him filling her to the brim, and then more.

She felt like a bitch, and it made her drip.

"Ah...ah...ah..."

The heat continued to build, the nasty act of taking it in the 'wrong' hole a blatant curse at her own religion. She shivered, feeling him pressing down on her, feeling the heat and weight of his body against her back as that thing pushed deeper and deeper. It was an entirely different feeling to having it in her sex, to having her pussy stretched. She had enjoyed that with Vitus, but this...

This was something different.

This was something raw, hedonistic, and naughty. This pushed her almost right up onto her tiptoes, made her feel the muscle of the male behind her, the sheer power that he could wield over her. There was no threat of pregnancy, no sudden worry about having a child in her womb. No, this was pure rutting.

Pure bestial fucking.

Pure pleasure.

She gasped, her tongue falling out of her mouth as he hilted with her. Pain, pleasure, heat, slime, nastiness, naughtiness, sexiness. It all came together to leave her shaking, his balls gently pressed to her dripping cunt.

"You need it bad, guard dog..."

"Nnnngh..."

"You ready?"

"Mmmph...mm-hmm..."

"Alright...then take it...bitch."

The End

Summary: Hazel goes with Vakrozad back to the hobgoblin camp, meaning to give Mol some of the info. However, things get touchy, and she gets overwhelmed, running away.

Tags: M/F, anal, hobgoblin, half-elf, monster, no panties, wet, heat, horny, lore, series, fantasy, magic, collar, interspecies,