Story 1: The Beast's Seduction

Fiona dropped the damp towel to the table and looked at the mountain of dishes that still needed her attention. Despite the disapproving look of Annette, the matronly cook and staff supervisor, Fiona began to sing as she dallied about her work. She was a dreamer and prone to flights of fancy. Having nearly completed the journey from child to adult, she had yet to live up to her responsibilities, incurring the anger of Lord William Waverly many times over. However, he had a fondness for the girl and had spared her any true punishment thus far, to the wonder of Annette and the other servants.

Today was a special occasion. Lord Waverly would be racing his finest hounds this evening in the competition held annually in his courtyard. He was a somewhat kindly Lord, looking after his staff with thoughtfulness, but everyone often remarked how ruthless he was when pressed.

Through the window, Fiona saw her Lord stroll across the grounds toward the kennels as she worked idly in the kitchen. Still daydreaming, she drew her fingers through the basin of soapy water over which she worked and traced patterns in the bubbles. She fancied a wealthy King from an exotic country would one day visit her Lord's manor and carry her away on horseback, or perhaps in a splendidly gilded carriage. She was imagining her wedding, one of her favorite ways to pass the time, when Lord Waverly's angry voice reached her ears.

"Annette! Where is that insufferable wench?" He called.

"She's at her work in the kitchen, Milord," Annette replied, her voice, a tad spirited. "Right where she belongs at this time of day if recollection serves."

"I will have her in my quarters at once! See to it."

"Aye, Milord. Right away."

Fiona was startled but not overly alarmed when Annette entered the kitchen. She toweled her hands dry and gestured towards the basin.

"All yours Ma'am," she said, smiling.

Annette laughed, not unkindly, and replied. "You've done it this time, girl. I'd rather have the dishes than what your master has in store for you."

Fiona swallowed, recognizing that although Annette smiled, she was serious and had been employed at the Waverly estate long enough to know a serious incident when she spotted one. Fiona checked her reflection in the hall mirror, admiring the shiny bounce of her black hair as it framed her sapphire eyes before continuing in soft waves down her back. She patted her maid's cap nervously and ascended the granite staircase.

... Lord's voice was unusually harsh when he told the old bat to summon me, but I can't think what I might have done to anger him so...

At last she reached the landing and veered to the right, starting down the wing that housed Lord's quarters. She had only been summoned for a private audience once before, when she was barely twelve years old. The memory of that evening brought a flush of cerise to color her cheeks, and her woolen gown grew warmer than usual.

Most of her previous encounters with Lord Waverly had been supervised by at least one of the older servants. It was the way of things in Lord's manor. She had the feeling that he wished to be the center of attention, staffing his household with many young and lovely girls, and even old Annette often affectionately remarked that Lord would never marry because he might then be forced to relinquish his harem.

Fiona paused outside the door to Lord Waverly's sleeping chamber, alarmed to discover that she was frightened. Summoning her courage, she rapped twice upon the heavy oak door and waited for her permission.

"Enter," came the sound of his voice, so strong and masculine that the door did little to muffle its quality.

Shyly, Fiona pushed aside the massive piece of wood and approached the center of the room, her head bowed politely.

"Master Waverly," she greeted, with an extra low curtsey.

"Disrobe." He commanded, wasting no time on greetings.

Fiona trembled a little, her fingers searching for the stays along the front of her bodice. Her cheeks warmed considerably as the gown dropped to her feet and she folded her arms across her chest, clad only in her cotton undergarments.

"Completely, and do not test me to determine how serious I am."

Blushing violently, Fiona hurried to comply, peeling the flimsy garment from her legs until she stood naked. Only then did she dare raise her face and look upon her Lord and Master. He sat facing her in a large chair the color of wheat wearing dark riding

breeches and a white shirt open at the neck; across his lap rested a quirt that sent a surge of fear through her limbs. Fiona shuddered and seeking to look elsewhere, she moved her eyes about the room until Master's prize wolf dog lying quietly beside his seat

caught her attention. The animal was huge.

Directly before her sat a hassock large enough to seat four. It was stark and white, a soft, luxurious addition to the darkened room. She did not understand its purpose and would not approach a thing so fine without permission.

"Do you know why you're here, girl?"

Fiona searched his face, sweat breaking on her lips and between her breasts. The dog whined slightly and sniffed the air; his black eyes riveted on her every movement.

"No Milord. How may I serve you?"

"I have been patient with you, girl." He said, uncrossing his right leg and reaching down to stroke the dog's neck. "Your father was my most loyal servant, as well as my friend, and I promised him as he lay upon his deathbed that I would care for you and guide you as if you sprang from my loins instead of his, but you have continued to test me from the moment you took to your feet at the age of one year. Can you deny that I have been lenient with you?"

Her shoulders shaking with worry, Fiona lifted her chin bravely and whispered to her Master. "No Milord. Your kindness cannot be exceeded. I'm grateful." And she bowed her head respectfully.

"My patience has reached its end and you have unusual ways of proving your gratitude." Lord Waverly said. "Sit down."

Confused, Fiona looked around. "Where, Milord?"

"Sit down at once!"

She saw no other place available to sit and after a frustrating second of indecision Fiona took a step forward and perched primly on the edge of the hassock eyeing the nearby canine carefully. In turn the animal, Rolf, lifted his head a fraction and sniffed once more, emitting a low growl. She flinched when he rose and approached her seat.

Master clicked once with his tongue and the massive animal bore down on her swiftly. Because she was seated, his head towered above her and she felt the heat of his breath on her neck as he circled and began to drag his cold nose across her skin.

"Milord?"

"Silence! You will lie down and you will stay still until I tell you to move. This moment has been a long time coming and you will take your punishment without pleas. Do you understand?"

Unable to contain them any longer, Fiona burst into tears and then struggled to quiet her sobs for fear that her Lord would inflict a harsher punishment, if that were possible. It was painfully clear what he had in mind for her and she sought to accept her fate. She flinched away from Rolf once, then gathered strength into her trembling limbs and laid her body down.

Rolf grew agitated. He circled again and allowed his tongue to travel the entire length of her right thigh until his nose was drawn irresistibly to the patch of thin hair that covered her mound. Fiona gasped and moved to protect herself from the dog, forgetting Master's warning in her revulsion. Too late, she understood her mistake but could not avoid the sting as Master brought his quirt down upon her exposed thighs.

Rolf jerked back in surprise but soon returned to his place, his nose caressing between her clenched thighs and insistently nudging them apart.

"This is my final warning, Fiona. Stay still!"

A heavy sob tore from her throat as she looked at the thin welt that rose on her skin. Fiona bit hard into her lower lip and forced her legs to relax. Squeezing her eyes against a fresh wave of tears, she allowed the wolf dog to maneuver his head to a place no one but she had touched since she was a toddler.

"Your pussy, Fiona, your cunt. Let him at it or you'll feel my quirt once more and this time it will strike a much more sensitive area of your body."

Not looking up, the girl nodded and slid her legs open another inch. Rolf was impatient; he began to move his tongue against her, starting low at her anus and licking up through her tangle of black hair until it emerged just above that sweet spot she had discovered herself while bathing one night. Her face burning in shame, Fiona groaned at the pleasure racing through her from that single stroke of his tongue. She stifled the sound and continued to lie still, as her Lord had commanded.

"It is your clitoris he touches now. He will lick it until you have no choice but to disobey me. You will soon be unable to remain still. You'll be searching for that tongue; you'll be longing for it. You'll go against your Lord's wishes and fling your body upon it again and again." He paused and eyed her lewdly from head to toe. "You might even beg for it, and the shame of that moment, my dear girl, will be your punishment." Lord Waverly whispered, his voice barely concealing his delight in the scene unfolding before his eyes.

Rolf was truly digging. He pawed at her flesh, settling in close enough to rest his head upon her mound while his sharp nails held her open for the tongue lashing he was about to deliver. Without the tease of humanity, he plowed right in, flickering his tongue up between the folds of her labia, reaching deep to pull out the girl's essence and to imprint the taste and scent upon his memory. Daring to move, Fiona lifted her head and peered at him, fascinated at how strong his tongue was, fascinated at the way her loose folds of flesh were pulled along its length until the connection disintegrated and they snapped back into place, leaving her wishing for him to lick faster.

Soon, Rolf's teeth appeared and Fiona hissed her fear, but did not avert her gaze. She saw the huge, half-wolf, half-dog, peel back his lips and surround with his teeth, what looked like a small kernel of dark pink flesh. She saw him hold it delicately inside those teeth and use his tongue to stab it repeatedly. She could not hold in her pleasure and a long wail of delight rushed forth unedited.

"Milord, please?" She implored upon catching her breath, squirming slightly and realizing that Rolf had performed this particular act before. Perhaps many times.

"Silence!" Waverly responded, the quirt rushing past her head with a sibilant hiss.

Defeated, she sighed and slumped her body into the softness of the hassock, whispering only one more word, "why?"

Waverly sneered at her. "When you shirked your duties of caring for my hounds, you deprived Rolf of his bitch. She died this afternoon of sheer starvation, you impudent little wench. I decided that fair is fair and thus have provided my loyal dog with a new

bitch. I suggest you serve him well."

Fiona did not fight the tears that spilled over her lower lids. She cried pitifully as Rolf continued to assault her pussy with stroke after stroke of his large tongue. Fiona fought hard to stay still, but her resolve fled when the animal abandoned himself, and hungry for the taste of her, bore down with his tongue, swiping her repeatedly from asshole to clitoris. He seemed to linger there on her pleasure pearl, sometimes only licking, other times nipping gently until she swelled to double her normal size. Rough growls rolled from the wolf dog's throat. He was enjoying the flavor of his human bitch.