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The Seduction of Seleste

from the world of the mating season

I'll Cut It Off

Chapter 4

It will be alright. Seleste sneered as she moved through the darkness. Her father was dead, MeRorr was dead, and she was probably carrying her rapist's pup! It would never be alright! If those fools had any idea what it was like to be a female -- and not just a female, but a princess too - whose entire fate was chosen for her from the moment she was born! It had been a tremendous act of love when her father placed her paw in MeRorr's, a tremendous act. The chief could very easily have said no, could have put the needs of the village first, could have arranged a marriage and sent her packing.

After all, there was a reason chiefs had so many children. The oldest, male or female, would inherit the fur-back chair, but the others were always bargained away to other villages. Many princesses were offered as tribute to keep peace between the tribes - and on rare occasions, even princes. Such a thing had happened to one of her oldest sisters during the summer village's on-going battle with the winter wolves. But Seleste? The chief couldn't bear to see Seleste go. It was no small wonder then that he had smiled upon her love for MeRorr.

"Oh, MeRorr," Seleste muttered wretchedly. "If only we had run together. Then none of this would have happened."

Seleste clutched the blanket tight to her shoulders as she stumbled through the trees. The dagger Belou and Yzmor had given her was held fast in her small fist. She was naked and cold and dismally lost. Yzmor had told her to keep the red star at her back, but once she entered the little wood surrounding the graveyard, she could not see the star for the trees.

At least she could see the fire from the summer village. . . . wait, fire? Seleste stopped and looked back. From the vantage point of the little wood, she could see that the riot had escalated to a point that wolves were now running up and down with torches. She gasped: the great hut she had spent her entire life in was on fire! The screams of agony, the roars of Meleste and her family played a horrific cacophony on her ears. Her heart beating hard, Seleste turned and suddenly ran into the trees.

It seemed over to her now. Really over. The last remaining dregs of her life were gone: her home was destroyed! There was no going back now, even if she wanted to. The screams, she had to get away from the screams! She could hear Melet's wails as if he was burning beside her.

Seleste ran full tilt now through the trees. Branches reached down to slap her, bushes snagged her. Her blanket caught on a low branch and was snatched free of her shoulders. She suddenly didn't care. She ran hard into the cold wind, tears rising to blind her, the darkness pressing, the smell of smoke whipping in the wind.

She didn't stop until she saw a break in the trees. She burst from the cover of the woods and fell to her knees. After kneeling a long moment to catch her breath, she looked up. She had reached the wastelands at last. The ugly, rocky earth spread away from her to the horizon. It was dotted with the reaching claws of dead trees, boulders, little hills that curved over and were draped with crackling vines. As she knelt there looking across that bleak landscape, it hit her for the first time that she had never been outside the village in her life.

"And it will take days to reach the sun village," Seleste whispered miserably. And what would she do once she got there? She couldn't very well go to the chief there, even if he had been a friend of her father's. Would he believe her story? Would he believe the treachery of Meleste? And if she didn't go to the chief, what then would she do? Live on the streets of the sun village begging for bread? Whore herself? Become a merchant?

Seleste stared dismally at her knees. She didn't have the courage to survive this. She didn't have the skill. After living nineteen years the spoilt and pampered princess of the summer village, it was hitting her for the first time that she didn't know how to do anything for herself. She could cut her own meat. That was about it.

In sharp contrast, Meleste had been taught to do everything from fighting to politics to arithmetic. Meleste's childhood had largely consisted of training to become chieftess: she could cut off a wolf's head and knew what his teeth would be worth at market. Meanwhile, Seleste's childhood had been one of freedom and bliss. Little Seleste had never been forced to sit down for lessons. No. Seleste's childhood had been about eating sweets, flying kites, and sitting on Daddy's knee. No wonder Meleste had hated her.

But for the first time in her life, Seleste was now envious of her sister. Sure, Seleste had known freedom. But she didn't know a damn thing about surviving. She was hungry and cold and so tired - she didn't even know how to build a fire. She was the epitome of the helpless, clueless princess that Meleste had always so rightfully despised.

"You were right, Meleste," Seleste muttered to the darkness. "I'm a featherhead. I can't do anything. But you're still a black hearted bitch!" Thinking of MeRorr, she spat the last word and sat in the dirt a long time, silently crying.

"God. What am I going to do? I guess I better get up and --" Seleste froze as she was rising to her feet. A twig had snapped somewhere behind her. Her nostrils flared to take in the scent of a stranger. A male.

Seleste whirled about. "Alright, I know you're there! I have a dagger! Come anywhere near me and I'll cut your dick off!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!"

A shadow stepped from the darkness. His black body stood silhouetted in the moonlight, and it took Seleste a long time to realize that it wasn't simply for lack of light: his fur was black. He was tall and lithe but toned with muscles. His bright green eyes flashed in the darkness, and there were leaves in his fur: she realized for the first time that he had been watching her from the branches of a tree. The snap she heard was him leaping to the ground. As a result, he had been hunched down in a predatory crouch when she turned, but now he rose slowly and his paws were lifted in surrender. He was holding her blanket!

Seleste's face scrunched up indignantly. "So you're not only some stalker, you're a pervert too? Drop the blanket and step back!"

The stranger did as told, and when he stepped back into the moonlight, she saw he was smirking. Her breasts heaved. "You would mock someone who's pointing a dagger at you?"

The stranger laughed. "Not at me, at you." He pointed at the dagger, and looking down, Seleste realized she had been pointing the pommel at him. Her cheeks flamed. She fumbled to hold the dagger right, and the stranger made a sudden move. She was so frightened she stumbled back, but he was only picking up the blanket again.

"I s-said drop it!" Seleste warned.

"I was just giving it back to you. But fine. Stand there naked. Does me no harm." So saying, he stood again and raised his paws to the sky.

Seleste blushed scarlet. It was the first time in her life, she realized, that she had been forced to parade herself around nude. Princesses were never nude in public like this, only common village girls. A princess' beauty was meant to tease, not be put blatantly on display. She wanted to sink into the ground and disappear when his green eyes raked over her nipples. It was freezing cold and her nipples were rock solid from the fact.

"Stop staring!" Seleste snapped. "And keep your paws where I can see them!"

The stranger did as told, his face never failing to register his amusement. "Whatever you say. Oh - and you should probably take my spear. It's over there in the bushes with my bag." He jerked his head, and looking where he had indicated, she noticed a few discarded items in the brush. But she didn't' move. She would have to go past him to get the bag. And he knew it. He laughed at her.

"What's the matter," he said. "Go on. I won't bite. There's food in it." His brows pressed together anxiously and he added, "You look hungry."

Seleste had been gaining her nerve to move past the stranger, but the tone of concern in his voice made her pause again. She peered at him in the darkness. "Who are you? Why do you care?"

"I'm no one," he said, as if he had been caught, "and I don't care."

It was Seleste's turn to laugh. "Ha! You looked truly sorry for me. Who are you? Some boy from the village? You sound young." Suddenly bold, Seleste moved closer, her dagger still held ready - and held the right way this time. With a few feet between them, she stopped and peered up into he stranger's face. No, he wasn't from the village, she would remember - who could forget such a handsome face as that? Her heart fluttered when she took in the strong line of his jaw, his slanted eyes and their intense expression, his rough black fur. And his smell - god, his musk was so strong, so enticing. Ashamed of herself, she moved past him to the bushes and crouched down. As he had said, a spear and traveling pack were lying there.

"I was going to rest here," said the stranger behind her. "Then you went running by crying . . ."

"Sorry to disturb you," Seleste said sarcastically. She pried open the traveling pack and was relieved to see food inside. There were also knives, tools for building a tent and fire, tools for hunting and gutting fish - she recognized it all, even if she didn't know how to use it. She could survive with these things, even with the spear. It was heavy and cumbersome, but it was better than her little dagger. Now if she could just get rid of him.

Seleste straightened up and strapped on the traveling pack. The stranger's face darkened as he realized what she was about to do.

"I'm sorry," Seleste said, turning to face him. She tucked the dagger in the pack, then took up the spear and regarded him miserably. As if she was gaining her nerve, her face hardened and she pointed the spear at him. "I mean - no, I'm not sorry. For all I know, you were going to rape me! Leaping down out of trees on wolves --"

The stranger scowled but she went on, determined to be rid of him, "I want you to turn and walk in the direction of the red star for - uh - ah hundred paces . . . " Seleste stumbled over the number, hating herself for never having at least eavesdropped on her sister's lessons with her oldest son.

The stranger noticed her stumbling and smiled. "Fine. One hundred paces. Then what? You know I'm going to find you, right? There's no way you're walking away with my things."

Seleste stiffened. But she couldn't bring herself to kill him. "No," she said, lifting her chin, "I don't know anything of the sort. For all you know, I'm a bandit, a master criminal and thief, and I'll disappear like that."

The stranger laughed. "You? A bandit? Right. Because bandits cry and run around bleeding pussy blood in the woods . . ."

"Urgh! Just get going!" Seleste snapped. In all her misery and fear, she had forgotten that she was still covered in the juices of her arousal, as well as her own blood. She probably reeked of semen too. The fact that she had been raped must have been more than obvious to him. She wanted to die just thinking about it.

"Please," he said, and he sounded concerned again, "you're scared and you've been hurt. I can help you --"

"Ha! Turn around and get going, or I'll cut it off and toss it in the brush."

His face darkened. He made a sudden move and she stiffened, but she realized he was only picking up her blanket. He offered it to her. She hesitated but was fool enough to snatch it. She got close enough that he grabbed her wrist. She screamed and brandished the spear, but he wrestled it from her easily. To her surprise, he dropped the spear and covered her mouth with his paw. She was screaming and cursing and he seemed frightened someone might hear. He pulled her into his arms and whispered, "Please, please, you must calm down!" and trapped in the hard muscly wall of his embrace, she fought wilder than ever. Before he knew what had happened, she brought her knee up sharp and fast in his groin. His lips parted in a whimper and he sank to his knees as she fled into the wastelands.