Chapter 2
For a month now, he seldom bothered dressing at all. What had started as a rage and hatred filled daily rape, had become long careful sessions in far more tender sex. Now four or five times a day he fucked her. Always striving to bring to her again the orgasm that had surprised him so as he first used his tongue on her cleft.
Fucking her ass or vagina, then as he rested, he brought her to twisting orgasms on his fingers and tongue. Learning to revel in the taste of their combined fluids spilling back over his tongue as he lapped and sucked at her.
As Ostara passed he wanted to hear her voice, to look into the eyes that filled his dreams as she came to him every night. First though, he had dug out all traces of the divine silver mesh, and overnight great dragonfly wings soon spread behind her. He hadn't touched the dagger or whip in weeks until he pried out the meshes earlier. Now he sawed at the leather and metal that locked her face away from his. The winds that had plagued him so he now saw for what they were, little forest spirits, like versions of her that could stand upon his hand. Purely female they cavorted endlessly with each other and him every time he was idle. Occasionally whispering knowledge into his ears, that made little sense or import. What did her care that some farmers daughter was pregnant from the farrier? Or that the seamstress had taken coin but never produced the dress ordered from an addled old woman seeking a burial gown? Now the movements of troops and results of distant battles, that was of import.
Freeing her eyes and mouth would have to wait he was too tired today to continue...
Waking the next morning he found himself already hard, two of the Fae sliding hands, lips and tiny wet pussies all over his cock. Other Fae rubbed, stroked and licked every place on his skin. He could taste one on his lips as another took her place there and he lapped up into her. Other Fae rode single fingers like they were giant cocks. After what seemed like ages of pleasure he came, covering the two at his cock in great gouts that seemed far larger that he remembered. As his winged lovers all joined to lick him clean he noticed for the first time that he seemed somehow sleeker, possibly even bigger, just shaped more evenly and not the triangular upper body he used to have, now something more even. The hair on his chest thicker and less brown, more almost black with hints of other colors.
Each morning he awoke to an orgy of Fae at play on him, covering them in more of the seed they craved every time. Each day a little more of the gag and blindfold yielded. Each day he came to adore her a little more.
Rising to break his fast, still covered in the juices of Fae and the traces of his seed, he noticed he hadn't closed either the inner or outer chamber doors. Not like she was going anywhere...
Later he entered and found her swarmed in tiny fluttering bodies, vicious sharp teeth at work everywhere the dagger had started a cut. It took until noon but the blindfold strap parted at last and he pried it away in horror as he saw the spikes driven into her ears and eyes and held there these past centuries, tears flowed as he kissed each wound. Hoping they healed soon.
Pulling the gag from her lips in a quiet voice, chiming like a carol of bells, she whispered a "Thank you" in an accent he didn't recognize, but that left his heart spinning.
He gave a quiet kiss to her lips and then left her to the buzzing attentions of her attendants who licked and brushed at the caked blood.
His eyes didn't notice the lights in the room had dimmed and that all Three of the statues had their backs turned.
He awoke the next morning eager to see her, his diminutive lovers playing in his thick fur that covered his chest, arms and legs. This morning as he came in their hands and lips, instead of the pulses of semen barely rising more than a hand span, today each of the sixteen mighty jets rose the length of his forearm into the air. He smiled as he watched fluttering Fae hit and knocked from the air, covered in white.
As he smiled he felt his tongue playing over canines grown long and sharp.
Suddenly he knew what he needed to do. Getting dressed in his full vestments and armor for the first time in months. Turning to the Fae always hovering close, "Tell her I shall be back soon." Mounting his horse, that he had largely ignored recently, it seemed leery, almost afraid of him, probably gone half feral he thought.
Five days later he returned on foot, leading a Dray pulled by an ox. As he got within sight of the tower he saw the fields and groves that he passed were covered droves of Fae holding weapons of wood and obsidian. Scattered among the millions of tiny winged beauties were hulking brutes that moved like a boulder tumbling down a slope, or a torrent from a flash flood. Every one of them saluting him as he passed.
Pulling up to the tower one of the brutish forces stood waiting. Pulling the tarp off his load he revealed a forge anvil and selection of mallets and chisels.
The brute reached out and grabbed the cold iron anvil and with a scream of pain lifted it. Flesh bubbling and boiling it staggered into the keep and got the anvil almost to her chamber before he bubbled his last, and flashed into a cloud of steam and smoke.
Stripping naked, happy to lose the armor that represented that which he had come to despise, he bent his back to it and shoved the anvil across the floor. Heave after heave, rather than weakening with the effort, the anvil seemed to become lighter as he grew nearer to her. Sliding it the last inches to her side he collapsed to his knees and looked up into beauty beyond par. Her eyes carved crystalline orbs of Amethyst glowing violet from within. A pair of red lips that drew back in a broad smile from a mouth full of daggered fangs, as a narrow forked tongue extended to lick across those flawless features.
His heart pounding in his chest a thousand times harder than any simple exertion could cause. "I know that I am not worthy of your gaze, representing as I do those that hurt you so dreadfully. Know though I will do everything in my power to keep you from ever being hurt again." Timon gasped out as he gazed up lovingly.
"Stand My Love, let me look on you." As he rose, "Yes... oh yes... such a good start, come I hunger, I would feel you inside me."
His cock hardening larger and harder than he had ever known, he stepped up to her and caressed her sweet vagina. Kissing her breasts and licking the nipples into diamond hardness, he straightened and kissed her lips for the first time not having to stretch up to reach them. Feeling them open before him, his tongue entered her mouth and he felt it slashed open on her razor edged teeth. Then she sucked on him, his blood pouring into her mouth gulp after gulp. He weakened in her arms as she drank him dry. His heart stuttering, it's beat faltering, only a thousand pairs of tiny hands supporting him as this kiss grew. Then her tongue pushed his back into his mouth as hers extended to fill his mouth. Then growing longer, it reached down a throat grown too weak to gag. The tongue seemed to grow inside, ever longer, splitting into a thousand strands that touched every tiny place in him.
Then when it seemed there was nowhere she wasn't touching him, his blood came flooding back. No longer tasting of copper and earth, now it poured into him tasting of the tang that lightning left in the air, roaring with the thousand howling voices screaming in agony of a tornado in full rage. Then came the arctic chill of a blast out of the north in the darkest winter following the deep snows, the wind that brings the wolves starving to your door, just as a gust blasts it open to let the hunger in. Then came the deep dry wind off of a desert, the wind that stole every trace of life giving moisture, leaving desolation and barren sand behind. The flow of blood now a tide whipped before a hurricane pushed and expanded him. Bones shifting and reshaping as the flesh that held them moved and flowed. His jaw trusting out into a muzzle filled with fangs to rival hers, his skin erupting in a wolf's pelt. He grew until he stood more than a full foot taller than before, his limbs thickly muscled. His feet rising up so he now stood digitigrade. His spine growing out into a lashing tail that felt so odd, but so right. Seeing his eyes light up reflected in her glittering gaze, his in a flare of golden beryl.
He tilted back in a howl that shook the walls, lightning arced at his call, his newly hardened cock he slammed inside her and started stroking, each stroke bringing fresh lightning. Bringing her to orgasm after orgasm, at length he came inside her. This time he felt as his seed mixed with her essence and flowed out to fill the room in tiny newborn gusts that slipped out of the room to join the army outside, an army he now knew he was the father of. He smiled and gave her a second spawn before continuing that day.
The anvil was now a trivial weight, the sledge slammed down in a spray of sparks time and again, the anvil and the very stones beneath it complaining at each pounding smash. Then with a crack like a mountain splitting the chain parted, freeing her right leg for the first time in centuries. Hours later her left was free as well, still manacled the arms presented a problem.
He took the mallet and chisels to the walls themselves and freed the blocks to which the chains were bolted. Working all night as the sun rose he struck the final blow and split open the last of the hated manacles. Taking her in his arms he carried her out into the light of the rising sun where his queen gathered her army, with a mate and hunting hound at her side as General. This time they had a General that knew of the secrets and mysteries of the horrible human metal, and an army born of half human stock that disliked but was not destroyed by it. A year from now they would boil from the deepest woods and show those humans the true meanings of fear and torture.
He spent days reworking the bundles of rotting arrows into steel points on oaken withes to replace the obsidian shards on dried reeds. The smallest he showed how a sewing needle gummed with resin of Monkshood and their hitting exposed flesh not armor, made them even more deadly than the steel spears.
Not all Humans practiced the tyranny of their King's prejudices. Some kept the old ways in secret, the milk left out, the sacrifice left at a faerie ring. The quiet faith and rituals that had kept his Love alive during her long starvation.
Mary Shepherd was eldest daughter of the 15th generation of Shepherds of the Broken Hills, bringing her herd just within sight of the forbidden tower where legend had it the Mother was imprisoned. As the sun sank low on the night of the full moon, the winds came for her. Swirling around her she heard giggles and tugs that pulled her and guided her. Reaching the top of a hill covered in a giant Faerie Ring the tiny fungus glowed in the last light of the sun. As the Sun set before her, the full Moon rose at her back illuminating that every inch of the surrounding fields were covered in Fae dancing, hovering in the air at the center of the ring was the Mother herself, her consort and mate at her side.
Sinking to her knees in awe she spoke the ritual greetings as if it were a simple field ritual.
The Mother spoke, "Faithful daughter of a faithful family. Changes are coming, we ask two things of you, either you may refuse without risk. The first that you return home and turn your herd over to your sister to handle, and become our Priestess for the coming war. Only those blessed in faith will survive the coming terrors, you must save all you can. If you accept the first, there is a second request."
"Of course I accept. There could be nothing greater for me than to spread the faith."
"Thank you Daughter. But there is indeed one thing greater. As our Priestess, would you bear our Avatar and Champion?"
"Me? But I am not worthy of such..."
"Oh, but you will be." And the Mother kissed her in a transforming kiss that left her still looking fully human, but now she could call upon their powers as if they were her own.
Not so ordinary Mary Shepherd stood in shock still as Timon pulled her dress from her and guiding her to the center of the Faerie Ring he spread her beneath the light of full moon and slowly forcing his way into her wetness, she gasped and arched as he stretched open her virginity and bottomed out deep in her core. His every stroke vibrated across her body, from the soles of her feet, to the hard pebbled nipples rubbing against his rough fur, to where his wide spread jaws closed on her neck, to where her hands clenched handfuls of his furred back. Driving in and out to the point of barely remaining in control enough to return to her, to what felt like pushing on her heart. He came filling her with a scalding warmth as tiny lightnings reached down to play across her body, as his howl filled the land, her scream of joy followed it.
Seven times that night did their cries echo across the land. Seven times the watching hordes cheered in joy. Seven times a blind oracle in a temple vault cried out in terror and dread. Seven times did the seals on an ancient vault shiver and crack as the Wild Hunt pushed on the doors spreading ever wider now. Seven times did ancient forest lords and ladies move in their eternal slumber each time closer to waking. Seven times did distant powers look up and make plans to close their borders. Seven times did cattle and chickens awake crying in fear, as peasant farmers cowered from the unearthly sounds, to awaken to find no chicken laying, all milk curdled in the pail.
Mary woke the next morning, feeling the new life inside her. Fae now drifting in clouds around her, as bodyguards and companions. Others rode her shoulders and whispered the secrets of everyone she passed. Only after she arrived home did she learn that her eyes, once brown, were now violet and gold and if you stared into the centers there were storm clouds there now.
Marching off into the deepest woods they passed from sight, leaving only winds howling in fury that came at night to search ancient battlefields and hidden tombs, for steel arrowheads and tiny daggers to ready the coming revolt against the human rule with the new year. By then millions more of his children would run howling at their sides.
He had deals to reach with winds, and powers long sleeping to awaken... the hidden and forgotten would rise and remind the Humans that they weren't the first masters here, merely caretakers for a while.
"Come my Love, under the full moon tonight I will carry us high and the army we birth there will be of the air, Sylphs, Faeries and Sprites. Under the darkened Moon we shall swim to the depths and spawn Morgens, Kelpies and Pooka to torment their wells and lakes. Soon wherever they turn, one of our children will await them."
In a decaying walled keep, days from the nearest town. The rotted gates still hanging ajar.
A pile of cracked bones of an ox, smaller piles in the coop, graves dug open, all bore the marks of ten thousand sets of teeth on the gnawed bones.
Deep inside the tower, a room stood open and vacant where not a trace of wind or light played. Shattered chains lay scattered about an anvil cleaved in two. In alcoves on the wall, three lightning shattered and melted statues lay, with the guardian spirits fled.
The End
Mother in Chains - Chapter 2
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