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Desert Wolf
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
A few months ago, I tried writing a story for my
girlfriend. We both think that it came out rather well.
After thinking about it a few times, I thought that many
people in this newsgroup might like it as well. The only
problem might be that we are both familiar with the
characters I used, and anyone else who read it might have
been a bit confused. To help, I've put a short description
of the main characters before the story appears. Here
goes...
All of the animals involved are anthropomophic types, that
is, they are animals who can stand on thier back legs,
basically `humanoid' animals. (If you've ever read the
Xanadu or Albedo comics, you'll know what I mean).
Wylf: A rather spoiled, young, and impatient wolf who likes
to get her own way. Sometime ago, her father gave her
control of a rather vast desert in attempt to teach her
leadership (and to get her out of his castle). With the aid
of several of her fathers guards and a small population, she
was able to start and maintain a thriving community. Though
she's matured a slight bit, she still has her short temper.
She's also found great amusement in fooling around with
almost anything male in her village. As several close
friends have heard her say "I'm not a slut; I neither need
nor accept payment."
Shiltarm: Wylf's current source of amusement, this well
built, handsome griffon is also the captain of the guards of
Wylf's outpost. In spite of how badly she occasionally
treats him and his guards, he will do just about anything to
protect and please his mistress.
Dranga: Dranga can be obnoxious and cruel sometimes, but
usually he's trying to have fun and keep himself amused.
Sometime ago, he and several good friends 'obtained' a ship
and tried being pirates just for fun. They did quite well,
and after a short time became quite well known in many ports
and seaside towns.
Ok. Here's the story. Keep in mind that this is only the first
part. If enough people enjoy it I'll keep posting the next
parts. Responses, or whatever to:
[email protected]
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Desert Wolf
Wylf opened her eyes. Far above her, sitting quietly
on a perch, sat a brilliant green parrot. Around her, the
dark blue walls of her tent protected her from the bright
sunlight that beat down upon the desert. She lay back on
the soft, silken pillows, lying in the dim light of the
tent. From somewhere outside, she heard wing beats
approach, then footsteps.
The flaps to the tent whipped open, and the shadow of a
large griffon moved across the blazing light. The door
closed, and darkness returned. Shiltarm squinted, trying to
see. He had a rough idea of where Wylf would be, but could
only see out vague shadows. He stood by the door and
waited. "Mistress?" he called quietly.
Wylf yawned and looked up. Casually, she eyed the
captain of her guards. Unlike Wylf, who was wearing
nothing, he wore a crimson and black sash across his chest.
Tight black pants covered his muscular legs, and a long,
curved sword hung from his belt. Gold-feathered wings hung
behind him. He was panting from his flight. Wylf knew that
he realized how dangerous it was to fly in the heat of the
day, so he had some reason to get here quickly. "What is
it?" she asked eventually.
"We still haven't found any sign of Tar'thom, Herril,
Rit'ko, or their horses. A sword was found, and I think it
belonged to Herril," he said. He moved closer to Wylf,
standing just in front of her. "Also, a foreign ship has
anchored in the northern harbor."
Wylf yawned again and sat up. Her drowsy eyes stared
up at the griffon. "Who cares?" she thought. She was too
tired to worry about that right now. She grinned
mischievously as she though of something else that she found
more interesting. With a smirk of pleasure, she reached out
for Shiltarm's belt with her foot.
Shiltarm's beak dropped as Wylf's rather agile feet
started undoing his buckle. Trying not to let himself
become too aroused (but failing), he sputtered "That ship
could be a minor threat."
"Perhaps," replied Wylf absently as she pulled the belt
away from his waist. Over the past few months, she had
gotten quite good at using her feet for things like that.
As his loose pants and sword fell to the ground, she kneeled
before him, and glanced up to the griffon's face. His wings
and tail quivered as the wolf's paws rubbed though the
golden fur on his legs. Wylf growled softly as one paw
gently massaged his balls. With a grin, Shiltarm sighed and
growled back as the wolf aroused him further with her
tounge. "Almost too easy," Wylf thought as she kept herself
amused with the griffon. Casually, she forced his hardened
penis into her mouth, still rubbing and teasing with her
tounge and fangs. "He's gotten too used to this," she
thought, hearing his quiet roars. "I'll have to get rid of
him." With one final lick, she pulled her head away from
him and looked up over the chest of the panting creature.
"Sometime, but not just yet."
She kneeled, and rubbed her paws further up his body,
over the fur on his stomach and chest, up to the soft
feathers of his neck. Leaning back, she pulled him down
onto her bed. He landed over her on all fours, and she
pulled his beak to her muzzle for a kiss. [Think about it;
a beak and a muzzle might fit together well enough for
this...] Their tongues met and intertwined, as Shiltarm's
tail started rubbing around Wylf's legs. Wylf pulled away
from the kiss with a gasp as he tickled her thighs with the
fuzzy end of his tail. He felt Wylf shudder as he brushed
it across her pussy. While his tail continued to excite the
wolf, he leaned forward and started biting gently at her
ears. Lost in her growing excitement, Wylf's paws clawed
frantically at his back and the base of his powerful wings.
Desperate to be satisfied, she grabbed his waist and pulled
his hips toward her own. His hips gave way, but only far
enough to allow the head of his penis to rest against the
rim of her vulva, which was by now begging, practically
screaming, to be filled. After a deliberate pause, Shiltarm
started a slow entry into the passion-filled wolf beneath
him. Wylf howled with pleasure as she felt herself taking
in the griffon. With one gentle push, his entire length
slid into Wylf, and Shiltarm stopped for a bit to allow the
sudden wave of ecstasy to subside.
Like a wild animal, Wylf began biting at Shiltarm's
feathery neck and growling in his ears. Matching her
growls, the griffon started thrusting himself deep into the
wolf's hole. Wylf tried to muffle her cries and howls as
she felt ripples of pleasure burning through her innards
each time the griffon's hips impacted on hers. The bucking
of his hips became harder and faster as Wylf started biting
at his ears. Feeling the griffon sliding though her
summoned powerful surges of ecstasy that built up inside of
her until she felt all her control ebbing away. A howl
escaped her lips as she felt her whole body tense and quake
from Shiltarm's frantic screwing. Somewhere above her, she
heard him cry out as well, and she could almost feel white
heat burning inside of her from the griffon's orgasm.
Blinded by her ecstasy, she was dimly aware of the heavily
panting griffon falling gently onto her chest, and felt his
hot breath on her face. A numbing silence was all she felt
for some time.
Slowly, Wylf felt herself regaining control, and
started to calm down slightly. She had felt like a mindless
animal as she lay beneath him, compelled by instincts she
couldn't understand, almost as if mating with Shiltarm was
something she was forced to do. Her body quivered slightly
as she thought about how much she enjoyed that feeling.
Shiltarm, on the other hand, always seemed to remain calm
and controlled, something Wylf found rather unexciting about
him. Sometime soon it would be time for her to find a new
`toy' to replace him. Sometime.
Two hours later, they were riding across the desert.
Wylf's eyes spotted the small object first. It lay near the
foothills of the small mountain range that formed the
north-east border of the desert. Wylf picked it up. It was
small, black, and made of heavy material. It seemed to have
no use to her, until she held it close. It was a fancy,
though strange hat. Stitched onto the front was a white
skull and cross bones.
They arrived at the harbor soon after. Along the ocean
the desert was very much different. Trees and thick bushes
grew along the hilly shoreline. Instead of powder-dry sand,
the ground was solid and damp in some places. More of her
guards were already there, about 40 of them, sitting in the
shade waiting. They sprung to attention as she arrived.
Shiltarm dismounted from his horse, and stood in front of
his other guards.
Wylf looked to the ship. It was a large sea ship, made
for crossing oceans through any weather. Cannon barrels
peeked out of the sides. All the sails were rolled up on
the gaffs, except for a few loose pieces which flapped in
the breeze. An anchor chain lead down from the bow into the
dark water. Across the back, glinting in the sunlight, were
the letters "Amnidar" in gold. There seemed to be no
activity on the deck.
Shiltarm spoke. "No one has left the deck since it
arrived. It seems to be waiting for something."
"But for what?" Wylf asked. She remembered the hat,
and an odd thought struck her as a memory clicked into
place. "Can you take that ship?"
"I think we can. The crew seems to be very small. It
may be a decoy, but I doubt it." He looked to the ship.
"Their only weapon seems to be those cannons, and they would
be useless against us if we flew to them."
"All right, do it then." She got off her horse as the
griffons drew their weapons. "There is little point in
waiting until dark. They would expect it then. Go!" The
aerial army flew into the air toward the ship. Wylf stood
in the shade by one of the trees and watched. As the
griffons reached the ship, a hand came out of the brush
behind her, grabbed her mouth, and yanked her back.
She struggled as she was dragged through the trees to a
small clearing. Her attacker pushed her to the ground, and
removed the sword from her belt. "So you're in charge
here," came a voice. "I must admit, you're much prettier
that most leaders I've run into. As for your hospitality,
well... Attacking my ship? No matter... Those whimps of
yours won't get far." Wylf turned to look to the voice.
Standing over her was a stocky pink dragon. The black
pants that he wore were more like shorts now, the tattered
bottoms hung just above his knees. An old sash tied about
his waist held them in place. His face was red from
sunlight; he obviously wasn't used to this environment. A
childish smirk crossed his face. Emerald green eyes stared
into her own.
"So I was right about that ship. Captain Dranga, the
legendary fear of sailors," she growled, concealing her
nervousness.
He grinned and bowed. "It's nice to be popular."
"If you think you have any chance of getting anything
out of my-"
"Ha! Are you serious? In all my travels, I haven't
come across anyplace more boring and useless than this
place, including that town of yours."
Wylf ignored the insult. "Then why are you here?" She
rubbed her chest, and began toying with her necklace.
"Amusement. I'm having a race with Atom, Chavara, and
a few others of my crew. Raced across the continent, to
here. And since I seem to be quite early, I'm now after
entertainment." He grinned maliciously.
"If you touch me..." Wylf started. Dranga suddenly
noticed the attention she was giving her necklace, and leapt
onto her and ripped it from her throat. He looked closely
at it, and let out a loud growl. "It's just a necklace,"
she said.
"I doubt that."
"Are all pirates this paranoid?"
"Perhaps, which would explain why I'm not the one who's
just been caught."
"Yet," she mumbled. Dranga remembered the griffons.
Grabbing her arm, he bolted back into the brush, dragging
her behind him. Darting quickly through the trees, they
reached the shore in no time. He held her tight, leapt onto
one of the horses and spurred it on, leading it toward the
hills nearby.
He pulled her in front of him and held his claws
against her stomach. "Now stay put!" he growled. As he
glanced over his shoulder, he saw the griffons moving away
from the ship. He must have been right about the necklace.
Soon after, the horse raced into the small mountain range
above the desert, and the harbor was out of sight.
Dranga wedged the necklace under the saddle. His legs
came up along the wolf's waist. He crossed his feet in
front of her, and squeezed, cutting off her breath, forcing
a cry of pain from the wolf. "Try anything, and you're in
big trouble," he said as he let her breathe again. His
wings snapped open, and he drove one set of his claws into
the horse's side. The mare panicked, and leapt forward in
pain and fear as Dranga's wings pulled him and his wolf
captive into the air.
They ascended far above the ground. Wylf felt relieved
that she didn't have a fear of heights. She still remained
nervous knowing that Dranga could drop her at any time, and
a fall like this could kill her.
Dranga flew for a while, high enough to keep his
captive frightened, but low enough not to be seen. He
veered toward the cave he had used as a shelter and swooped
into it. Once inside, he dropped the wolf, and landed by
the small pool. He shoved his face deep under the frigid
water, and splashed more on his body. He was not accustomed
to the desert heat. Doing almost anything made him hot, and
a flight like that overheated him quickly.
Wylf tumbled across the floor, and crashed into the
wall. She lay there, dazed for a bit. They had dropped
down a steep shaft which was probably impossible to climb,
meaning her only escape was from outside help.
The sound of the dragon splashing around in the water
caught her attention. She sat up as she watched him cool
off. "Getting a bit hot for you, eh?" she thought with a
slight grin. "I'll have to remember that."
As her eyes adjusted to the light, she looked around.
A small fire burning near the center of the cave kept the
chamber from being too cold and provided enough light to
see. Off in the corner, she noticed a large pile of bones,
three red and black suits, and a pair of swords. "Tar'thom,
Rit'ko, and Herril," she said quietly.
"Yep," replied the dragon. "And their horses." He
patted his belly. "I must say, you raise tasty griffons
here," he said, licking his lips.
A surge of rage overtook Wylf, and the spell passed her
lips before she knew it. One of the swords flew across the
room into her hand. She hesitated for a bit, angry at
herself. Using any magic, even such a simple type, was
dangerous when not in total control, and using it
automatically could be just as dangerous. She forgot about
it for now, for the dragon was more of a threat.
Dranga saw what happened, and leapt to his feet. He
was only partially sure about what happened. Normally,
Wylf, with or with out the sword or magic, wouldn't trouble
Dranga, but if he fought to hard, he might overheat again.
Wylf held the sword toward him. Dranga stood, waiting
for her to move. As soon as she took a step toward him, he
blew a cloud of fire at her, and leapt through it onto her.
The fire startled Wylf, and his collision with her caused
her to fall back. As she fell, she swung the sword at him,
and it caught his wing. The blade tore a large gash through
the soft flesh of his wing. "Yahh!!" he cried with pain as
he struck out at her wrist. Claws sliced though her arm,
and the sword fell from her hand to the floor. The fight
was now just a matter of strength and agility, and the
dragon had her out matched. In a few minutes, she was
pinned down.
Breathing heavily, Dranga held her down with one foot.
He reached for the sword with his tail, pulled it closer,
and picked it up. "So you like playing with swords?" He
looked at the blade as she glared at him. He grinned
sadistically, and placed the blade into the fire, under the
glowing embers. Her mouth dropped open in fear as he
withdrew the sword, its blade glowing brightly in the
darkness. With his free hand, he tore her shirt near her
stomach open, and waved the sword close.
"What are you doing?" she cried with fear.
"You want to know?" He pressed the blade into her
skin. She screamed loudly as it sizzled against fur and
flesh. He pulled it back. A large black scar remained. He
flipped the sword to his other side, and held it close to
her skin again.
"That burn's not bad. It'll heal quick. Want a more
permanent one?"
"No! no..." she whimpered. Her side was still in
pain, and she shuddered the thought of another burn.
"Well... are we going to try that trick again?"
"Nay."
"Good." He tossed the sword into the pool. With a
splash of water and a hiss of steam, it vanished into the
shadows of the pool. "Now remember," he pulled her head
near his, and looked into her half open eyes. "Your friends
were just griffons, and you're just a wolf. It really makes
no difference to me." He dropped her back to the ground,
and looked at her again. "Except... you happen to be a
girl." he continued with a wicked grin. He began to tug at
her loose clothing, and every time Wylf struggled, he struck
her across the face with his paw. He tore her shirt off,
and yanked off the pants she was wearing.
"NO! Please!" she screamed.
"Oh? Why not? It might be fun," Dranga teased, and he
began to let his paws wander across her fur. As he amused
himself, she became furious.
"How dare you try this?" she growled. No one ever even
dared to disobey her, let alone pin her down and try this.
She was powerless. All she could do was get angry. "Get
your paws off of me."
"You know... you're beginning to get annoying. I'll
have to find some use for you." He held her down with one
hand, and began to undo the sash about his waist. With a
tug, his own pants came off, and he tossed them aside. With
a snarl of anticipation, he crouched over her. Wylf looked
at him with fear and anger.
"Don't even think about-" she started angrily.
"Your voice is getting tiresome. Perhaps I should plug
your mouth with something?" he said as he grabbed her muzzle
and forced her mouth open. He brought his waist up toward
her face, and Wylf shuddered as she felt the dragon's erect
penis brush against her chin. "Now if I feel one bite from
you," he warned as he positioned himself over her, "you're
going to wind up following your three griffon friends. Got
that?"
Before she could answer him, he brought his hips down
and stuffed his swollen maleness into her mouth. Out of
fear, she felt forced to keep him pleased. As the dragon's
waist slowly bobbed up and down, Wylf rubbed her tounge
along his length. As she continued hearing his grunts of
enjoyment, her anger toward him grew, though not enough to
overcome her fear about his threat. She also began to feel
angry at herself for starting to feel oddly aroused.
With a sudden push from the dragon, Wylf's head was
pressed against the rocks behind her, and was held there by
his body. Growling with determination and anticipation,
Dranga started forceful thrusts over the wolf's lips.
Again, Wylf felt forced to allow him to continue due to her
fear, but also due to some unexplainable desire. She almost
wanted him to do this, almost hoping he wouldn't stop.
Hearing the intensity of his growls and snarls increase, she
shuddered with fear about what was to come, but
unconsciously tightened her lips around him. A few more
quick, violent bucks of his hips brought the loudly roaring
dragon to an orgasm inside her mouth. Wylf felt her own
body tense up in an almost pleasurable way as her mouth was
suddenly filled with a heated, salty ooze. Dranga sighed
with satisfaction and pulled himself away from her to rest.
As Dranga rolled off her, she spat the whiteish liquid
out and scowled at him with blatant hatred. Being used like
this was something she had never imagined happening from
anyone. Being raped or treated so roughly was something she
found unthinkable.
So why did she enjoy it so much?
Her thoughts were again cut short as she noticed that
the dragon seemed to be stumbling around, as if drunk. A
confused look crossed his face, and his eyes seemed unable
to focus. He suddenly fell forward onto her with a gasp.
Something seemed wrong with him again, but Wylf remained
still.
In a few seconds, Dranga recovered, partially. He
still felt hot, and was beginning to get weak. He crawled
away from her and moved toward the pool. His head was
spinning badly. His internal temperature was way to high.
That fight got him hot enough, and playing around with her
made it worse. In a few days he'd be adjusted to this
temperature and environment, but until then, he had to be
more careful. He collapsed into the pool. His eyes had a
hard time focusing on anything, so he just closed then for
now while he cooled off.
Wylf stood up, watching him. She had guessed that the
heat was getting to him again, for the dragon didn't get a
chance to cool down after their flight. He seemed almost
helpless once he overheated. "I wonder..." she thought as
an idea crossed her mind. Grabbing a mid-sized rock, she
stepped closer to him.
Dranga heard something, and sat up. He was cooler now,
but he still felt dizzy. He opened one eye, and saw Wylf
leaping at him. Startled, he tried to move out of her way,
but couldn't react fast enough. As Wylf struck his head
with the rock, Dranga growled in pain. Everything he saw
was fading to a whiteish color. His body crashed onto the
rocks by the pool. Though the waves of pain, he tried to
get up. All he could feel was the throb of pain on his
head, and he fell back over. He saw Wylf as she stood over
him, and he could just barely make out the grin on her face.
With a sadistic laugh, she struck the rock against his head
again. This time, he blacked out.
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