Soren's Early Years; Part Four
#4 of Soren's Early Years
Part Four. It got a little darker and more violent than I anticipated. And a little gross at one point, but I rolled with it. I uploaded this exact one last night, but I couldn't sleep thinking about the horrible ending, so I went back and changed it. I'm already working on part five.
Soren's Early Years; Part Four
The castle had been searched top to bottom. Poor Ambros' moods had been a rollercoaster the last few weeks, and now this was too much. He stayed glued to Soren's hip like a puppy.
The only thing Soren noticed was the old alpha's sword was gone from the wall in the library. No surprise there.
Dante moved Tielo into his room. He sensed a war was coming, and didn't want his first submissive to become claw fodder.
Soren didn't eat much. Didn't sleep. Didn't fuck. She felt this was solely her fault, and it chewed her up to think about her family being in the line of fire.
Hours turned into days. Days into weeks. Although some time had passed, Soren was still on edge. She would feel better when Ingvarr was dead and she could spit on his corpse.
The evening was warm. Soren opened the windows of the second story, letting the breeze whisk through the castle.
Ambros cozied up to Soren's side, as they watched the last remaining sunlight disappear. The long shadows cast through the garden seemed to move, and it wasn't until one turned its glowing eyes up, that Soren realized something was wrong.
"Close all the windows!" Soren yelped. Ambros raced up the hall, closing windows as he went. He stopped at the end of the eastern corridor and banged on Dante's door. No answer.
"Dante! We need you!"
Still no answer. Ambros slowly opened the door. The room was void of life. No Dante. The four post bed was neatly made, the rest of the room just as neat and orderly. The brown Wulf entered the room hesitantly, glancing around the room, then darted back into the hall.
"What the hell...?" Soren stepped back as her mate nearly bowled her over.
"Son of a bitch." Ambros snarled. "He left us."
"I don't blame him. Not one bit. I knew he was destined to leave, and besides, this is my battle. I'm willing to bet Ingvarr is out there." Soren glanced back over her shoulder. Something was racing across the grounds outside...many somethings from the sound of it.
"Ambros, you need to leave while you still can. If Dante really left, he took Tielo. We can't fight an army on our own, and I don't want you to suffer for my mistake." Soren grabbed a hold of her mate's shoulders.
"No. I'm not leaving you."
"How touching." Ingvarr was standing in the Grand Entry, the massive doors behind him open wide, revealing several snarling werewolves.
Ambros and Soren turned to face him. It was going to be a long night.
Soren slowly started down the steps, keeping her eyes on Ingvarr.
"So you had to come back with a pack of those disgusting monsters. Why, you couldn't face me one on one?"
"You have your pack, I have mine." Ingvarr bared his teeth, of which a few were still missing.
"You call this a pack? That's hilarious." Soren reached the last step and stopped. "Why don't we just settle this like Wulfs. Just you and me."
"How about no." Ingvarr drew the alpha's sword and lifted it up so Soren was looking down the blade.
One of the werewolves charged her. The she-wolf leaped in the air as the were crashed into the stairs, landing on top of him and sinking her claws into either side of its head. Using her entire upper body, she jerked its head around, cracking its neck.
When the first werewolf went limp, another charged, crooked yellow teeth bared and claws outstretched. Soren met the were in air, locking her jaw on his neck. It sunk its claws into her back, drawing blood. She shoved forward, toppling the werewolf onto its back, her landing on top. She held it pinned to the floor, chomping hard into its pale flesh. A second werewolf leaped onto her back.
Ambros was down the stairs faster than a lead ball, lunging past Ingvarr and bowling into the three fighting. He aimed for the one on top of his mistress; he grabbed the were's neck as he sailed over top, dragging it off Soren, and flinging it straight into the floor. Soren finished the werewolf she was sitting on, then attacked the half-crippled one Ambros had dislodged. The pair tore the were limb from limb, before turning to face Ingvarr.
The bastard was smiling. The fucked up teeth made for a very convincing evil grin. Three more werewolves snarled behind him, these almost a head taller than the first three.
"Seperate them. You know what I want." Ingvarr commanded, keeping his eyes locked on the Wulf pair. The three monsters darted around him.
Soren braced herself for impact, but was taken by surprise when two of the werewolves went for Ambros. They grabbed a hold of him, beating him with closed fists, swiping with their snaggly claws, and eventually getting him pinned to the floor.
At the same time, the single were that attacked Soren had ducked from her initial attack, dodging around behind her where it wrapped its arms around her middle, clamping her to its body. She bit and snarled and struggled, but this fucking thing was strong. Not quite strong enough when her elbow pinpointed its ribs. It loosed its grip and yowled, just enough for her to wriggle free....and right into the waiting hands of the other two.
The pair of werewolves each took an arm, slammed her to the floor, and held her there. Soren kicked at them, biting at the air, furious at the turn of events.
The single were tied Ambros tightly, lifting him up so he was on his knees, arms tied back. Soren stopped fighting when she saw her bloody mate, weak and helpless. Against everything she stood for, and everything she usually was, she couldn't handle seeing him like this. He was hers. He was her....mate. She suddenly didn't care what happened to her, so long as he survived. But a glance up at Ingvarr told her that wouldn't happen.
The broken grey Wulf now stood unbridled, the only Wulf in the room still standing. He glared at Soren, then stabbed the air towards Ambros with his sword.
"You do what I want, and I will not kill him."
"What do you want?" Soren snarled.
"I want you to submit to me. In front of your mate. Abolish your bond with him, and make it with me." Ingvarr sneered.
"You don't want me as your mate. Just kill me, since that's what you came here to do. I don't care what happens to him...he's just an omega." Soren hoped her bluff would at least sway the antagonizing Wulf away from Ambros, who only needed to look into her eyes to know she was bluffing. Ambros dutifully kept his head lowered, acting like he was weaker and more beaten than he was.
"Ha! I will not fall for that. You are a terrible liar." Ingvarr laughed. The third werewolf stood next to Ambros, a hand on his neck, the other producing a sharp knife made of Damascus steel. It held the knife to Ambros' neck.
"You WILL do what I want. When I have fucked you as much as I possibly can, I will let each of my new friends here fuck you until you bleed from every hole in your body. Then I will let them fuck your boy here, until he is nothing but a hollow fur rug. But before he dies, he will watch his alpha; while you are laying on the floor in your own blood and werewolf slime, I will take this sword and fuck you with it as well." Ingvarr was nose to nose with Soren. His breath was of rotting flesh from the wounds in his mouth. "And before you die, you will watch me slice his throat, and choke on his own blood."
"You have some serious issues." Soren whispered.
Ingvarr raised the sword above his head, and slammed it point first into Soren's shoulder. She screamed as it broke through her flesh, shattering her right shoulder blade before digging into the mortar between stones in the floor. Ambros broke his silence with a bark and snarl, earning a swift fist to his head from the sentinel werewolf.
The grey Wulf laughed, and slipped himself up between her legs, grabbing the sword with one hand and shoving three fingers up her hot sex with the other. He dug his three claws into her tender walls, then pulled them out, carefully licking blood off his fingers. Soren squirmed against the sword and the werewolves, but she knew she was stuck. She would have to endure, and wait it out until she could find a way to fuck this Wulf up.
Ingvarr used his knees to roughly spread her legs wider, still keeping one hand on the sword's handle to steady himself, the other rubbing his cock.
"By the way, you can thank Dante for all the awesome fucks he gave me. Oh, and thank YOU for my new smile."
Ingvarr lined himself up, and rammed his dick into her. She tried to pull away from the thick sausage as it roughed up her scratched wall. He pushed in dry, straight up to the knot, using the sword for balance, and enjoying Soren's pain. Ambros whimpered. The grey wolf pulled back, spat on his cock, and shoved it back in, pressing the growing knot against her.
The two werewolves holding Soren down were squirming. She could see growing cocks on both of them, long, slender, reptilian spikes of pale grey flesh. They grew out from gross, floppy, hairless sheaths, which sheltered long saggy ballsacks. So these things were male. Who knew?
Ingvarr pounded into Soren's raw pussy, taking immense pleasure in her discomfort and anger, and also in Ambros' pathetic whimpers. He looked over his shoulder as he rutted into the she-wolf, watching the wide brown eyes of her mate waver.
As his cock slid in and out of her now wet pussy, Soren strained against it. Her vag was on fire from the scratches, and her entire upper body was continually hammered by shooting pain. Her body tried to heal, but with the sword pinning her down, well, the source of the problem was still an issue.
She snarled at Ingvarr, straining against the werewolves. Ingvarr rammed her harder, pushing the knot hard, stretching her wider, and finally locking her in. He pounded in short bursts, leaning over her, nose to nose, breathing heavily in her face. Soren looked away, only to have Ingvarr grab her muzzle and force his own around it. He shoved his tongue into her mouth, while pumping hard, straining towards a powerful climax. Ingvarr released into her, pumping his seed up into the white Wulf.
Soren bit down on Ingvarr's tongue, splitting it, and loosing blood. He howled and tore his knot from her, making her wince, then cry out in pain when the sword cut in.
The grey wolf leaped back, holding his muzzle tight. Blood leaked through his fingers. He paused, then lunged forward and struck Soren's face with a bloody paw.
"Grrrrrar 'ake her! 'Ake te bith!" Ingvarr cried out, spitting blood all over the floor.
The werewolf by Ambros left him, approaching Soren with a hunched swagger. His dick hung low and out, as if the sheath was melting, his ballsack resembling old bubblegum.
Soren pulled her legs closed in horror. Ingvarr was one thing, but this creature was beyond disgusting. Its cock was wet and dripping. From what??
The sleek black Wulf raced across the forest floor, not in pursuit of anything as his speed would have you imagine. Hot on his heels, a common brown nearly struggled to keep up. The last day or so had been weird.
First, the master wants to leave, to protect his new omega. Now, the master wants to take the omega back into danger. Tielo understood only some, but still wondered why Dante didn't just go alone. Tielo was no warrior. He only survived this long on his brainpower, and werewolves don't respect brains...they don't respect anything, actually.
The evening after the pair left the castle, they were scouting for somewhere to camp, when they caught a whiff of something foul and irregular. The woods were a wide expanse of wild lands, where only the thickest skin survived. Winters required thick fur, summers requiring enough fur to protect from the sun, and the game in the area shouldn't be able to smell you from a mile away.
When the scent of moldy old food crossed with putrid flesh attacked their noses, Dante hid Tielo, and snuck up over the hill where the scent seemed to originate from. Sure enough, a pack of about fifteen werewolves had set up camp. They weren't smart enough to pitch tents. Someone had to have done it for them, or at least attempt to coach them. One tent stood out amongst the others, standing the same height and utilizing the same canvas, but was set up more like a small cabin.
Dante watched the weres bicker and bite at each other like savages, keeping one eye on the nicer tent and one eye on the direction of the wind. While werewolves lack brainpower, they could still overpower and kill a single Wulf.
These creatures were not built for the woods, lacking the essential fur. They were city dwellers. They prey on the weak, lonely humans who happened to wander at night. As if answering a question, Ingvarr stepped out from the big tent, standing proud with sword in hand.
The werewolves seemed to shy from him slightly, not out of respect, but out of fear. Ingvarr lifted the sword, yelled a few words, and just like that the camp was a flurry of activity.
Tielo snuck up and lowered himself into the grass next to his master.
"I told you to stay put." Dante hissed.
"What is going on?" Tielo asked quietly, peering out at the messy camp with an ill-hidden disgust.
"I think we are looking at an army."
"For what? I've never seen those things outside the city." Tielo suddenly paused. "Soren."
Ingvarr sheathed the sword, and bounded off into the trees, a small pack of werewolves following like puppies.
The old werewolf dropped to his knees in front of Soren, holding the Damascus blade to her chest. He sneered as he flicked at her nipple with the tip of the blade, then casually shaved some of her thick fur off her breast. He plucked the tuft of white fur, sniffed it slowly, then flicked it away.
In one swift movement, he holstered the blade, and had her legs spread open. Soren bucked, snarling and snapping, pulling against the sword through her shoulder.
He wrapped his skinny fingers around her ankles, holding her legs to the floor, and bending over to sniff her snatch. The were stuffed his nose into her, lapping up her juices and Ingvarr's seed, reaching his tongue as far as he could, his wet nose pressed up into her tender folds.
Soren tried in vain to pull away from that mouth, the rough tongue. Suddenly, the were froze. His eyes rolled up, and he pulled away.
Ingvarr growled at the werewolf, until he noticed something was wrong. He leaned down to the were, who whispered in his ear. Ingvarr slowly grinned.
"Tis changes nuffing. You will be pokin' puppies." The grey snickered, a bit of blood oozing from his muzzle.
The were slipped himself between Soren's legs, grinning like he won the lottery.
Ambros looked up at Ingvarr, then at Soren. They locked eyes. Puppies?
"She pregnant." Ingvarr slurred, looking down at the shocked Ambros.
Soren was dumbfounded. The only Wulf she'd been with in the past weeks was Ambros, so they had to be his. She was unsettled; she wasn't ready for offspring, let alone what were they? Wulfs start out human, so what happens when they breed? And apparently, werewolves are sensitive to the slight taste changes of wolf pussy.
The werewolf poked at Soren's leg with the pointed tip of his glistening cock, pulling her attention to him.
"Imma fuck you so hard your puppies will never grow. Imma ram this up in there and swirl it like pot of soup. Pup soup." the thing spoke like it always had a sore throat, and finished with a cackle. Soren was horrified. She had seen (and participated in) some nasty shit, but between Ingvarr and this guy, good lord. How dark do you have to be to want to fuck someone with a sword?
The were rubbed his dick all over her legs, moistening the fur. It excreted more sticky fluids, keeping it moist. The white Wulf tried to pull away, despite the previous failed attempts. The pair holding her arms were entranced, and their grips only tightened.
The pale, mildly hairless, werewolf set the tip of his cock at her entrance, staring straight into her face, waiting for eye contact. He wiggled, she glanced up at him, and he thrust hard into her, impaling her on his long and pointed shaft. He bottomed out, creating a wet suction type sound as his fluids blew back. Soren whimpered and yelped in surprise and horror.
It...was...INSIDE....HER...
He rocked his hips, feeling around her tight pussy, pulling back an inch, then slamming her again, the top half of him stretching her cervix wide open, exposing her fertile belly to him. He grabbed her hips, gripping her hard, his yellow claws piercing her skin.
She whined as the beast ravaged her, slobbering all over her chest, ramming his cock into her with a ferocity she could never match. His claws drew blood, staining her fur. He pumped into her, his fluids keeping him well lubricated. The were hunched over as he neared his climax. He sniffed at her neck, panting hard enough around his victim so she couldn't get fresh air. Finally, he spasmed, jerking twice as fast in short bursts, digging his claws deeper into her hips to lift her up off the floor to meet his body. He clamped his jaws around her neck as he released into her.
Soren cried out in pain, from the teeth in her neck, the claws in her sides, and the sword slicing her shoulder. The were's long, pointed cock was harder than the floor she was forced down on, and every thrust jammed her cervix like a freight train meeting a brick wall. She worried for the tiny fetus', if they were truly there, and for Ambros. It's one thing to be raped, but another to be desecrated in front of a mate. Ambros was sensitive enough, she worried he would forever be tainted by this shit.
The were released her neck and hips, panting on her face. His breath was as disgusting as every other part of him, causing Soren' stomach to turn. He licked the side of her muzzle, his rotten breath concentrated down into the spit, filling her mouth with a putrid flavor. Her stomach heaved, and she vomited towards the were holding her left arm.
The werewolf pulled his slimy cock out of her, bringing with it a sticky, yellowish, substance, which reminded her a little of cottage cheese gone bad. It seemed to coagulate around the tip of his dick, and little clumps hung in the stringy parts like little bugs in a spiderweb.
"I am glad I went firsht." Ingvarr looked almost as disgusted as Soren.
Soren retched again, at the same were as before, who let her arm go to save himself another coating of bile.
In that brief moment, the world seemed to slow. Soren realized she had a free arm. Ambros lost his shit, and whirled around towards Ingvarr. The werewolf who had savaged Soren had left Ambros alone, and he had taken full advantage of not being the center of attention. The brown Wulf flew into a homicidal rage, latching onto Ingvarr with teeth and claws.
The were's paused, unsure if they should assist their temporary master, or keep Soren down. Soren mule-kicked the werewolf who fucked her, sending him flying across the Grand Entry. The one who let Soren go pounced at Ambros. The third whimpered, tucked his tail, and slowly released her injured arm. Seeing her opportunity, she lunged, grabbing his cold muzzle with her free hand.
"Remove the sword." she commanded with a snarl. The were hesitated, then gripped the handle with both hands, ripping the sword from the Wulf's bloody shoulder. She yelped in pain.
An unholy screech caught Soren's ears, and she turned in time to see Ambros get slammed to the floor, both a bloody Ingvarr and a werewolf tearing at him with claws and teeth.
Soren snatched the sword, and plunged headfirst towards to fray. Just as she raised the sword to slash at the were, the one she kicked slipped up behind her, wrapping his arms around her and pinning her up against his damp body. The sword slipped from her hand, clattering to the floor. Ingvarr looked up, snarling, his mouth full of blood.
The werewolf pulled Soren backwards, struggling to contain the fiery Wulf, as Ingvarr left the other were to control Ambros. The third werewolf was no where to be seen.
"You bith. You think you can stop dis?" Ingvarr stepped towards Soren, grinning, blood dripping from his mouth.
Ambros whimpered weakly. The were held him to the floor, where a crimson puddle was spreading. Soren felt a white hot rage rising in her belly.
Soren felt hopeless, and weak, for the first time in a very long time. She saw her mate's life leaking out, unable to do a damn thing about it. She was raped by a psychotic Wulf, and a nasty werewolf. She was starting to lose her fight, and it was both a dull achy sadness and a flaming anger vying for pole position.
She started to let her head hang low, when the scent of fire tickled her nose. A haze began to fill the room.
Ingvarr snarled, the werewolves suddenly upset.
Flames were licking up the walls. They appeared to creep up through the floor, and raced up the walls like vines. They licked at the paintings and tapestries, then leaped up to consume them. The room temperature steadily began to climb as the flames sought out fuel, hungrily devouring whatever was close enough.
A shadow crossed the open front door.
Ingvarr growled, keeping a wary eye on the flames, but focused on the door. Both remaining werewolves were practically shaking; fire being one of the few things they fear.
The shadow stepped into the firelight, followed by a brown Wulf.
"Dante..." Soren exhaled, almost pleading.
Tielo stepped around his master, pointing a sleek crossbow at the werewolf holding Soren, and fired. His aim was true, the bolt zipped across the Grand Entry and sunk deep in the were's eyesocket. With a howl, he let her go, stumbling back at first, then using his good eye to weave and stagger towards the front door.
Dante turned to the injured were, lifted a single hand, and with a fluorish, commanded the flames to attack the were. Fire arced off the wall, quickly enveloping the beast. He screamed as the heat seared his flesh, bubbling the life out of it, and tried to run. The werewolf lunged headfirst into the wall, breaking his neck. Despite the death, the unconcerned flames continued to melt the carnal corpse.
Tielo reloaded, and pointed the crossbow at Ingvarr, who froze in place. The last werewolf bolted for the door, but was also met with combustible fate. As the two werewolf bodies filled the already suffocating air with burning flesh, Soren crawled along the floor to Ambros, past a furious Ingvarr. She picked up his spiritless head, pulling him into her lap.
The brown Wulf smiled up at her weakly, tongue lolled out to the side. She held back as much emotion as she could, still being the alpha, but a single tear escaped anyways. It rolled off her cheek, landing onto his blood-soaked fur.
"I'm so sorry...so so sorry..." Soren choked. She nuzzled his neck, holding him tightly to her chest. He lightly whimpered, lifting a hand to rest on her arm.
"...not you're fault." Ambros whispered.
Somewhere in the castle, something collapsed in a mess of crackling noise. The heat was close to unbearable as the blaze devoured the rafters.
"We need to leave." Dante called out. Tielo kept the crossbow trained on Ingvarr, keeping him in place.
Soren let Ambros go, repositioning her healing shoulder under him, and heaving him up onto her back. She winced as her wound tore open, oozing blood, but half drug the broken Wulf towards the door.
She laid him in the cool grass, his fur steaming from the sudden damp cold. As Dante and Tielo started to back out, Soren flashed between the two, straight for the offending grey Wulf.
The she-wolf slammed into him with suicidal force, launching them back towards the stairs, whose banisters were now alight. Landing on top, Soren grabbed Ingvarr by the neck fur and ear and began smashing his head into the stairs. She snarled as she hammered relentlessly, spittle flying from her mouth. Ingvarr tried to struggle, digging his claws into her body, raking, then grabbing new flesh and sinking in.
Soren paused, nearly exhausted, Ingvarr's face so bloody and disfigured, but still alive. She released his head. He turned up to look at her, his shattered jaw hanging loosely, his eye blown out. Ingvarr growled, blood and bile bubbling in the back of his throat.
Every ounce of fear had become a torrid anger. Her vision narrowed until all she could see was his fucked up face. With a deranged, maniacal howl, Soren unhinged, bringing her fist down so hard onto his psychopathic face, it would've made a serial killer uncomfortable. Her hand nailed the stair through what was left of him. She grabbed a hold of the remaining upper jaw, stood up, and while holding eye contact, plunged her other hand into his throat.
Soren pulled him close, licked his nose, smiled, then with a monstrous heave, seperated the grey Wulf's head from his body.
One of the rafters cracked, and collapsed to the floor, bringing roof with it. Embers drifting in smoke plumes filled the air. Soren dodged the pile, shot out the door.
Dante and Tielo stared at Soren with similar expressions, jaws hanging slack. She stood tall, mildly satisfied, still holding the upper half of Ingvarr's head.
The castle was consumed by the inferno, a massive stone firepit. Shadows of the standing stone walls danced over the Wulfs. Soren watched the flames consume every tidbit of her life up to this point, absorbing every book, painting, picture, tapestry, and turning it to hot ash. The smoke plume rose into the night sky, floating embers replacing the stars.
Soren sat on the grass, pulling a limp Ambros close. She buried her face in his cold fur, her chest and throat tight with sorrow, her mind overwhelmed by the stress, and sobbed.
The sun peeked over the mountaintops, illuminating the blackened stone walls and smouldering ashes. Dante and Tielo sifted through the wreckage, looking for anything that may have survived.
The brown Wulf saw a gleam of silver, and dug it out from under partially-unburnt logs...the old alpha's sword. He went to turn towards Soren, but Dante stopped him.
"This is the last thing she needs to see." Dante took the sword, and crawled over the fallen beams, weaving his way to the back of the castle, and out into the yard. He paced across the yard, coming to a stop at a cliff's edge.
Tielo came up along side his master. The dark Wulf felt an overwhelming guilt for destroying the mansion, but knew if he hadn't done something, she would've died as well.
The black Wulf cocked his arm back, and launched the sword off the cliff. It spiraled through the air, flashing the early morning sunlight, before landing in the river below.
Dante and Tielo hadn't found much. In their digging, they'd had to run when the weakened tower collapsed, exploding ash and rubble dust into the air.
"It is time for us to go." Dante said, sullen and reserved. When they returned to Ambros' body, Soren was nowhere to be found.
A sigh took them both by surprise. Dante rushed to Ambros. His eyes were closed, his body torn to shreds, but underneath it all...a faint heartbeat.
"Go find Soren. You will not rest until you find her!" Dante barked. Tielo sprung back, and raced off into the woods.
Dante rested his hand on the brown Wulf's chest, watching the short rise and fall.
"Hang in there, brother."
To be continued...