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The Seduction of Seleste

from the world of the mating season

A Gentle Love

Chapter 1

Seleste awoke with a start when the beaded curtain of her bedroom was ripped aside, almost as if the intruder was trying to yank it down. Lying on her side in bed, she looked over her shoulder to see two males standing in her doorway. She groaned inside. Guards.

One was the guard she had grown up hating: Belou, who had never wasted an opportunity to comment on her breasts and ass and what he would do to them when no one was around. Big and brown with eyes black as night, Belou had enough muscles to crush a boulder with his bicep. Like all the chief's guards, he wore the hard leather thong and short fur skirt that denoted his station as protector. His long dusky mane he kept pulled back in a tail, and wild licks of it fell into glaring eyes. But he was smiling lustily as he stood in the doorway.

Seleste shivered. God, she hated him.

The other male was, in fact, her personal body guard. His name was MeRorr, and from the time she was a small pup, Seleste had known nothing but content when in his presence. He was as big as Belou, but his brown eyes were gentle, his fur was gray. He also wore the leather thong and skirt of a chief's protector, and at the moment, he was looking as if he wanted to knock Belou on his ass.

"I told you I could collect her myself," MeRorr growled at Belou. Having served in the chief's hut for many years, he was somewhat older than Belou and at least twice Seleste's age.

Belou rolled his eyes. "We all know what a crush you have on the littlest princess, MeRorr. It's exactly why you weren't allowed to collect her alone. Chieftess says if you are caught so much as standing at her curtain by yourself, you're a dead wolf. And you know it. So shut up."

MeRorr's chest heaved and he folded his arms.

"What's the meaning of this?" Seleste demanded irritably, though her anger was directed at the hated Belou. She sat up, holding her blue cotton blanket to her bare breasts. Belou's eyes went right to the press of her nipples behind the blanket and she silently cursed herself for sleeping naked.

The youngest of the chief's twelve daughters, Seleste was very beautiful and the desire of many a prince in the other villages. Pale brown fur, slanted gray eyes, thick lashes, and a full long mane that fell to the small of her dimpled back was enough to make every guard at the chief's hut bite their lip in a private hell of ecstasy.

Unlike the village girls who ran about bare-breasted and essentially naked, a princess wore a fur shawl around her breasts, as well as beaded necklaces and bracelets. About her hips, a princess always tied a long fur skirt. The skirt covered vagina and buttocks but was slit up the sides to reveal her long legs. The attire of a princess was supposed to be sultry and teasing, revealing only hints of beauty, in order to make her all the more wanted by suitors from distant lands.

But the chief, who doted upon his daughter because she had the look of her mother so, refused to let Seleste marry. So long as he was living, Seleste would never have a mating season. No, his little pup would stay as she was for all time, the perfect image of his wife, until he had passed into his grave.

Now the chief was dead. His eldest daughter Meleste ruled from the high fur-back throne, and the other daughters had long since either had their mating seasons and moved out or were claimed by suitors and taken to distant villages.

But Seleste? She was nineteen and still had not been allowed to marry. She was the only princess now living in the chief's hut in the summer village and had to wonder why: Meleste had always despised her younger sister, and so to see her married and taken away should have been her first action upon becoming chieftess at her husband's side. But no. Meleste had kept her hated sister at court, under the constant eye of Belou and other lusty guards like him.

"Your sister summons you to the throne room, princess," Belou said. He smiled nastily and just stood watching her.

Seleste looked way. His smile gave her a sick feeling. If Meleste had summoned her, it could mean nothing good. And the fact that MeRorr looked so miserable was not encouraging.

"Then I will need to dress, won't I? Leave me," Seleste ordered Belou.

Belou smiled darkly. "So you can escape out the window? Come now. Surely you know what will happen here. I see the fear in your eyes. Those slanted, bewitching eyes."

Seleste set her teeth. "My sister has decided my fate. What else could it be? But if I were going to run away, I would have done it long before now, wouldn't I?"

Belou shrugged. "Say what you like. My orders are to remain here."

"Then at least turn your back!" the princess snapped. The gray eyes fired, and Belou laughed as if her anger was cute. In the face of his laughter, Seleste felt all the more powerless. Her throat tightened and she clutched the blanket tighter to her bosom.

"The princess asked you to turn your back," MeRorr said quietly. He calmly pulled his dagger from its sheath and regarded Belou coldly.

Belou's eyes gazed mockingly at MeRorr. "And will you turn yours? I shouldn't wonder you haven't already seen the princess in full glory."

MeRorr's cheeks flamed the tiniest bit, but he did not sheath his weapon.

Sensing that he had stricken a nerve at last, Belou laughed and turned his back to the room.

MeRorr sheathed his dagger and looked at Seleste, who nodded gratefully to him. He nodded back, looking awkward and embarrassed as he too turned his back.

Seleste rose naked from the bed. Wide hips and narrow waist, she glided with softly riding breasts to the wicker closet and opened the doors.

Standing with his back to the room, MeRorr could hear her rummaging through the closet and his eyes wandered guiltily to their corners. Belou was right, of course: he had seen the princess naked, had even known her in his arms. God, she was so beautiful. And, god, she was so young. It was only a year ago that he had taken her. He had stood guard at her door while she bathed in a small tub near her bedroom fire. He could hear her splashing and humming and the smell of her . . . it had made him hard. He'd kept his back to the room the entire time, but as if she sensed his arousal, she had come up to him, and brushing those pink nipples against his back, she had reached into his protector's skirt and slowly stroked his hard-on. He remembered closing his eyes, weak with his desire but fighting it every step. She was too young, he kept telling her, and the princess - he had been twenty when she was in mere swaddling cloths! He had taken a vow to protect her family, and to break custom, to touch her most intimate places would surely have them both stoned!

But the princess had not cared. She guided MeRorr by the paw to her bed, and pulling him down to the sheets with her, she kissed him. They made love. And it was such a gentle love.

MeRorr never touched the princess again. The guilt weighed too hard upon his heart. But he protected her with a renewed energy that was not lost on the chief and his daughters.

"Do you love my daughter, MeRorr?" the old chief had calmly asked.

MeRorr remembered standing in shock to be asked such a thing. And what was more, the chief was not angry in the slightest. He was calm, amused, perhaps even delighted.

"Do not be afraid," the chief continued when MeRorr failed to answer. "You are a fine male and I have a daughter already set to inherit the fur-back throne. Seleste is free to be loved and free to love as she should choose. Come here, my dear . . ." So saying, the chief held out his paw.

MeRorr stiffened when Seleste stepped from the shadows. She had been there, listening, all the while. Now she came to her father's side and sat on the armrest of his throne. The chief put his arm around his daughter and they smiled at each other. He looked at MeRorr, "Do you, MeRorr?"

MeRorr swallowed thickly as his gentle eyes traced over Seleste's happy face, her slanted eyes and the licks of mane that fell across them. She was beaming.

"Yes," MeRorr said at last, "I do."

The chief held out his paw, and feeling uncertain, MeRorr approached the throne. He took the chief's offered paw and was amazed when the old male put Seleste's small, pretty paw in his big rough one. He closed MeRorr's furry fingers over Seleste's, and smiling up at the two, he said, "Then, my children, love each other."

MeRorr remembered the way Seleste had smiled at him and how his heart had melted.

Even still, he could not bring himself to touch Seleste again. Though he was ever-ready at her side, her steadfast guardian, he could not bring himself to pass through the beaded curtain a second time and was thankful when Seleste seemed to understand.

Present-day MeRorr watched Seleste from the corner of his eye and swallowed thickly. She was bending over, and her pink pussy lips were pressing between her thighs. God. Some days he would give anything to know that swollen wetness again. He could smell her scent from where he stood and it was almost unbearable.

MeRorr looked away again when Seleste straightened up. He could hear her strapping on her long skirt, pulling on her shawl, and then she called to him for help.

"Teh. I knew it," muttered Belou under his breath and shook his head in much amusement as MeRorr went to the princess.

MeRorr saw with some relief that she was dressed. She stood with her back to him as she slipped on her bracelets. Her fur skirt was barely holding to her hip and she ordered him nonchalantly to fasten it for her. MeRorr groaned inside: this meant he would have to stand near the heat of her, the smell of her. He had not been this close to her since that night a year ago. But he did as told and stepped so close that his soft cock brushed her buttocks. He reached around to her front and started fumbling to tie her skirt on all the way.

"You haven't a clue what Meleste wants?" Seleste whispered worriedly. She slipped on another bracelet and fumbled with it under the pretense of dressing.

MeRorr leaned over her shoulder to see what he was doing and his cheek was very near hers. He felt so nervous. And foolish. As if he hadn't touched her before! But he was scared too: the way Belou was talking, this might be the last time he ever laid eyes on Seleste.

"No, my princess," MeRorr answered miserably.

Seleste smiled to herself. MeRorr had always insisted on calling her "my princess" - even when they were alone together. If what they feared was really about to happen, she would miss MeRorr terribly.

"Meleste is probably going to pull a suitor out of her ass," Seleste said miserably. "Then I'll be sent away to bear his pups like a queen bee."

"Don't say such things. I couldn't bear the thought - you so far away and me unable to protect you."

"Is that all you want to do, MeRorr? Protect me? Father might have let us marry. Or we could have run away together --"

"Seleste!" MeRorr hissed, and the princess fell dismally silent: they had fallen to talking as intimately and as easily as if Belou wasn't there, ears perked, listening.

Seleste bit her lip. It was the first time MeRorr had ever called her by name. She realized in that moment how terrified he was. He was fumbling so nervously with her skirt that it eventually came undone and fell around her ankles. He was about to squat and collect it when she grabbed his paw, and smoothing it along her slender belly, she pressed his fingers into the soft curly fur of her sex.

MeRorr stiffened when he felt her throbbing little clit, so hungry for him. It pulsed against his fingers and her lips, they were swollen. "Oh god," he whispered and sank his fingers into her wetness. Her head fell back and her breasts thrust forward when he gently twisted her clit in his large fingers.

"We shouldn't," MeRorr muttered, suddenly flustered.

Seleste took his free paw and closed it on her breast. MeRorr groaned as he became hard against her. Her tit was so perky and high, so soft and supple in his grasp. He squeezed it as he fingered her. Her long neck twisted around and she kissed him. He started to pull away, but suddenly unable to resist, he kissed her back, his paw closing hard on her breast.

"Touch me, MeRorr," Seleste whispered. "One last time . . ."

Weak with desire, MeRorr fingered her with a trembling paw. Her juices were now staining his fingers. He was kissing her passionately when he came to his senses. "No," he said, blinking furiously as he backed off. "We must stop, my princess. We must." So saying, he stooped to gather her skirt and remained squatting as he tied it back on.

"So," came Belou's voice as MeRorr rose again to his feet.

Seleste stood with her head bowed, unable to look at MeRorr. Belou had been standing there watching them the entire time, watching as they kissed and touched, watching as Seleste stood with her skirt around her ankles, with her shawl pulled up to reveal her breasts as MeRorr groped them.

Seleste hastily pulled her shawl down and adjusted it as MeRorr quickly tied her skirt on with fumbling fingers. His brown eyes were now hard and biting and remained fixed on his work. But they both knew they were caught.

"Just couldn't keep your paws off the princess, could you?" Belou said in amusement. "I was sent to observe the two of you, to confirm the chieftess' suspicions." He waved his paw and more guards appeared behind him. "Surprise, surprise: she was right."