|Little Red|
It took me three days before I finally admitted that 30 rules was the equivalent of a death sentence. I had to go everywhere with that list because I kept forgetting what was on it. Like for example, I thought there was something there about washing ass with a toothbrush. I was happy I didn't actually do that. The wolf, er Master? Would have ended my life then and there. It would be over, quickly and painless.
I had to consult my list. What is even on there? I had struggled but succeeded with ten rules. Thirty is an insane number, and my brain continues to struggle with it. Sometimes I have to pause, sit somewhere and ask myself, what in the gods name have I gotten myself into?
He meant everything on that list. I don't know why that came as a surprise to me. I've known him for a while now and he's a man of his words. If he says your ass will be red, believe it.
Or in my case, I have to dress like a whore. No offense to whores. Be who you want. But his mark happens to me on my shoulder, and we're in the midst of a snow storm. His first rule demands that I wear something that reveals his mark. I do that, whenever I'm home.
And when I go out, my coat covers it. Thankfully. But once we step into somewhere warm, the coat comes off. I can see the eyes. I notice how they're drawn to the leash.
There are two types of people in the wolf's pack.
The sheeps like the rag tag team of domesticated demons I have no choice but to consider my friends.
The others, the majority, are a bunch of weird pansies.
I said what I said!
They're so frightened by the wolf. They run when he's only a mile from them. Unless he growls to tell them to stay put. I caught a woman watching me with pity.
She was looking at me, wide black eyes that will never know happiness. They think I'm suffering, that I'm being held against my will. And yes, the last is true. I've heard stories of how the wolf brought them out of suffering and poverty.
How can they fear and treat their savior as though he was the villain? They had an anti social god protecting them.
I had to grow up with a fucked up view on life.
We are not the same.
I hate pity. I didn't ask for it. They stare at my shoulders. His mark, and some of my visible scars. I'm not a freak.
I was wounded but I survived.
So I tripped her, and told her to look at something else before I gorge her eyes out.
Sure, my words were more…. Uh…. Let's say they were unladylike.
But the wolf appreciated it. I saw a smile. I didn't ask for it, but it was nice.
Only for him to wake up this morning and tell me, in that sleepy, dazed, attractive as hell, authoritative tone that he would be back for lunch with a present for my kind act yesterday.
Yep, I am going to die tonight.
What does he mean by present!?!
My boots are heavy, the snow is thicker. A wrinkle forms around my forehead and I carry on thinking while making my way back from the baker's booths. They have nice pastries and so many vegetarian snacks for me to try. Even though they thought I was insane for not being able to eat me.
I heard a purr, my neck turned towards the trees. A black cat with golden optics, with red slits sits atop one of the stretched out branches, swishing his or her tail from one side to the other.
"Where are you heading too, youngling?" She says, the voice is clearly feminine. Her tone, light and seductive.
Is that cat talking? I stood in place, staring and blinking blandly.
"Are you mute? I've got no fingers to make some ASL for you."
ASL? Does she mean the sign language? My whole clan learnt that. It benefitted us in prison as we didn't needs verbal words to communicate.
"You're talking."
"I believe so." She purrs, then her body stretches and she meows.
"You're also a cat."
"This Forest is full of many strange things. I believe you're heading towards the barbaric wolf's home. Am I wrong?"
That's a talking cat. I spun, and walked without glancing backwards. My brain is making up too much shit.
Cats don't talk.
I shoved the talking animal into the back of my mind and focused on getting home so that I can prepare lunch for the wolf. One of his rules said I should always be back before him. Tricky, but I've been doing good so far.
I must be ready to service him? Wasn't that one of them too?
These rules are all ridiculous. I unlocked the door with the key I was given, and enter the cozy home. Grateful to be out of the snow.
I shook off the excess on my coat. The next hour flies by as I clean, and cook. I fixed my hair. Removing some of the snow flakes that had gotten there. My dress was dusted, and I made sure to eat and keep his in the fire oven. The flames are off, but the oven stays warm very for several hours after being used.
I prefer it to a modern oven. I could just be biased. There's something about the wolf's hand made works that gets my blood revving.
Sometimes I wonder if I'm useless. I pulled out a book, and read while waiting for him. I feel uneasy wearing a long gown with no underwear.
I'm not saying a shorter one would be better.
It would be worse. But the underwear helps alot. I find myself getting moist during the day. When my body is reminded that it was deprived of what felt like it could have been an addictive pleasure to feel.
But that isn't the only thing that gets my lower part wet. It's the wolf's cock.
I know, I can't believe I said those words too without stuttering. Cause I know I'm freaking out.
The amount of times a Day that the image of his long, thick, monster comes into my mind is enough to make me wild. Sleeping next to him also doesn't help.
He's started sleeping in the nude. His scent is thicker when he sweats.
It's gross. But I do like to smell him while I clean him.
His knot is thick too. I don't know anything about that part that is exclusive to wolves.
And I haven't had the guts to ask. From the fear that he might want to show me in a more indepth way.
Fuck. I'm thinking about him again. His musk, his cock, how he makes me feel depraved for wanting my captor.
My head shakes, and the door opens. It's embarrassing how fast I shot out of my seat to greet him. Seeing him, with blood and sweat, my thigh slam close. His eyes are full of something.
Then he cocks out a cheesy grin that makes my knees resign their ability to hold me up.
I gulped, and he bent. Waiting. I closed my eyes, and leaned without needed to see the intensity of his stare.
I can already feel it.
I swallow my moan when our lips come in contact. He doesn't let the kiss develop into anything.
Pulling his mouth away, making me frown.
"Here, take this to the room while I eat and shower." Husky, his tone can drive me mad.
"But…. Shouldn't I?"
His eyes sparkle, and I can't finish that sentence. His heavy musk rushes up my nose, and I forced my body not to lean in to sniff him like a fucking animal. He already does that to me.
"You want to wash me?"
"It's on the list." I defend quickly.
He battles with a laugh. "I see your looks, I smell you when you're turned on. The rules says you shouldn't lie to me. You want to wash me. See my cock up close." His head sways. "Go open your present in the room. I'll forgive your lie today. And I will wash myself."
He turns, and walks away from my sight.
It took me a moment to shake my disappointment, lock the door and hurry to the bed room while he eats the meal I prepared.
I sat on the bed, stretching. The box he'd given me was bright pink with a red rose in the middle. The rose was on top of a bow.
I was neat while opening the box. I feared I could destroy the gift.
Upon seeing what his gift was, I wish I wasn't careful. Because I'm sure, it I'm a bit educated in sex, that this egg shaped pink device with an adorable bunny remote is a sex toy.